Please Wake Me So I Can Dream Again
by Gatergirl79
Summary: Now that Robbie is retired and settled down with Laura, James finds himself struggling to move forward with his life. When Robbie is called to collect a very drunk James from the pub, the pair soon find themselves facing the ghosts of their past, embracing the present and hopefully setting out of a happier future. [slash. M/M. AU post series 7. WIP]
1. Prologue

**I never knew there were so many different ways to say good-bye**

It wasn't that James didn't drink, and drink a fair bit, but he never got so drunk that he was getting anxious glares from the barman. Nor to the point he was sat in a dimly lit corner of a pub pouring his heart out to a young woman he'd never met before in his life. It was meant to be a blind date but had wound up more like a therapy session.

James had no idea what triggered it. It wasn't as if he hadn't spent the past seven years carrying these intensely compromising feelings around, and it hadn't been as if he'd envisioned a happy ever after for himself. The fact was, realistically James knew he was most likely as not going to follow in the infamous Morse's footsteps. - And there was something sweetly poetic about that.

However, since the moment Robert Lewis had finally decided to settle down with his long-term friend and associate, Dr Laura Hobson, James has been pretty bloody miserable. It was made harder by the fact that Lewis seemed completely oblivious to his feelings, leading to Lewis continuously inviting him around to the new couple's happy home for dinner almost every weekend, and sometimes during the week.

It was why he'd gone to Spain. Attempting to avoid their domestic bliss and the pain it inflicted. As far as Lewis and the good doctor knew however, James was taking a holiday at the Chief Supers insistence to decide whether he really wanted to leave the force.

He truly had intended to go, visit the galleries and cathedrals, however he'd only gotten as far as Madrid before turning back. The distance only making his heart grow fonder and desperate to be close, even if he never actually spoke or saw Lewis again. Knowing they were in the same town was enough to ease his sorrows. – While at the same time creating more.

He'd been back in England a fortnight, and back in Oxford a week, and not once in all that time had he contacted Lewis, choosing instead to hit the internet in a desperate attempt to move on. Foolishly convincing himself that if he found someone, anyone, then he could face Lewis again.

His date for the night was named Penelope, a graduate student at the university majoring in psychology. That was where it all went wrong, because after a pleasant meal and light conversation she'd started asking questions. Questions that had led him to drink, which had then led to him spilling all the beans of his lonely childhood, his failed relationships, his conflicted sexual and religious beliefs, and finally, his sad and pathetic crush on his boss. - No, correction, _ex_ -boss.

"I wonder a lot what my life would have been without him." James sighed into his drink. "What path I may have taken." He looked up, meeting Penelope's sympathetic brown eyes. "I was so close to quitting when we met. This close." He held up his shaky hand, the thumb and forefinger only inches apart. "I was tired of all the snide comments, the whispers behind my back. If I'd known the ridicule and lack of trust the graduate scheme would send my way, I'd have never applied." He gulped at his pint.

"Then imagine all those criminals you wouldn't have put away." Penelope replied softly. "All those people you wouldn't have helped."

James sighed, nodded. "I know, and I don't think I would have done half as much good without him. I've seen how other inspectors treat their sergeants. I would have been little more than someone elses errand boy. Robbie never treated me like that."

James threw back the last of his drink and twisted in his seat to wave the glass at the bar. When the barmen turned a blind eye he reluctantly stumbled to his feet and unsteadily made his way over, loudly demanding another.

"I think you've had more than enough, don't you sergeant?"

"Actually, no I do not." He slurred shakily.

"James, I think perhaps we should..." Penelope tried to break in, but James ignored her, his gaze landing on a familiar figure in the doorway.

"Inspector." the barman incline his head in creating.

"Not an inspector anymore Joe." Robbie Lewis sighed, his gaze fixed on James.

"Right." Joe nodded. "Look, can you...?" He jerked his head in James's direction.

James watched as Robbie made his way towards him in what seemed to his drink addled brain to be a slow sensual waltz, stirring up his blood and making his heart beat faster.

"You're back." Robbie stated, coming to a stop directly in front of him.

James couldn't find his voice, instead looking at the older man with desperate wide eyes. He heard his companion introduce herself but barely registered the rest of their conversation.

"Come on Lad, let's get you home, aye?"

James felt himself being manhandled out of the busy small pub and through the night air. He felt the cool breeze on his hot face and Robbie's arm around his waist. Turning his head, he watched Robbie fumble with the car door. Once it was open the man turned him, pushing him gently towards the seat.

As James turned his body, Robbie's hand still at his waist, he found himself face to face with his boss. _Ex-boss. Friend. Love of his life. Any life._ "Do you think if we'd met in another time, another life, that you'd have chosen me?" He stuttered, eyes glittering around Robbie's face. "Could you have? If I hadn't been your sergeant?"

Robbie said nothing for a long while, simply staring at him with wide confused eyes.

Suddenly James shook his head vigorously. "No, of course not." He sighed, turning to fumble his way into the car, the metal vibrating behind him as the door was closed.

There was a long silence, the car shaking as Robbie settled behind the steering wheel. James let his head rest warily against the back of the seat, his eyes shut, the car rumbling to life to begin its long slow progress through the streets of Oxford. James could feel sleep crawling closer and tried to fight it off as much as his drunken brain would allow.

He faintly heard what he thought was Lewis asking him a question, but it was so muffled by drowsiness that Lewis had to repeat it over and again before even half his brain caught on to it. It was accompanied by a rough shake of his shoulder and James forced his eyes open, turning his head against the seat.

"Why didn't you tell me you were back?"

James' focus was off. He stared at Lewis for a long few seconds, the man looking back at him. He was handsome, James sighed. In that rugged, working man kind of way. He'd seen men like Robbie Lewis before, working the grounds of Craevcore as a boy, then later while he was studying at the seminary. He couldn't pin down when men like Lewis first attracted his attention in that _particular_ way, mostly because he'd fought that secret part of himself, disgusted and ashamed of it for so long. That was until Will came to him and he'd given the worst, most condescending, blind advice possible. Which had ultimately lead to the death of his best friend. So, scared of who he was, he punished another.

"Well?" Lewis demanded, and his tone sounded angry to James's ears.

He'd never expected to fall in love with anyone, let alone a man twice his age. Neither had he imagined he'd be one of those poetic lost souls who found love only to discover the object of their affection was already spoken for. - Oh, and of course Lewis was straight.

But maybe in another lifetime. In another reality. Somewhere out there in the Lord's magnificent universe, there was another James who wasn't left to watch from the side-lines. Who was able to love openly and be loved in return. Loved by Robbie Lewis.

If there was, James hoped they were happy together.

"James?"

He turned at the concerned call of his name. Robbie sat watching him, brows knitted and surrounded by some glowing white aurar, like an angel come to save him from his misdeeds. It grew brighter and James closed his eyes, basking in Robbie Lewis's glorious soul.

_(*-*)_

The ringing in his ears was almost painful, but nothing compared to the pain shooting through his spine. Forcing his eyes open, he saw red. Everything was red. There was an all too familiar scene of blood hanging in the air and Robbie feared it was coming from him. Blinking it away, he tried to focus on his surroundings.

He was still in the car, that was obvious by the seat belt currently crushing his ribs. There was a breeze sweeping through where the windscreen had been. It took him a few seconds for his mind to clear, and the past few minutes to come back to him.

With an agonising clarity Robbie remember he hadn't been alone. He forced himself to stay calm, which was bloody difficult when the fear of loss was carving up his insides. He restrained himself from snapping his head around to check the passenger seat, and instead moved it slow and cautiously. "James?" He choked out. "Hey, Jim, Lad? Talk to me? Are you okay?"

There was no reply. He tried to move his left arm, was trying to reach out and check, but a blinding pain shot up from his wrist and he cried out.

Once the pain had eased, Robbie took a deep breath and held it. Listening intently in hopes of hearing even the smallest sound from James. There was nothing and he felt his gut crap tightly and tears sprang to life in his eyes.

He couldn't lose James. He didn't think he could survive.

The distant sound of sirens gave him a smidgen of hope. "Just hold on, Lad. Stay with me." He pleaded, voice cracking and chest aching.

* * *

 **A/N: The main title comes from Lawrence's song Punching Underwater.**

 **Chapter title by Maggie Stiefvater, Linger _"This is a love story. I never knew there were so many kinds of love or that love could make people do so many different things._ _I never knew there were so many different ways to say goodbye."_**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Chapter Title by Cormac McCarthy [All the Pretty Horse]**

* * *

 **Scars Have the Strange Power to Remind Us That Our Past is Real**

James felt like he'd been thrown from the top of a building. For a few seconds when unconsciousness began to fade, he'd considered that might be exactly what happened. Then as he reluctantly attempted to open his eyes it all slowly came back to him. The date. The alcohol. Lewis. He let out a broken groan.

"James?" A strangely familiar voice presses.

He fought against the fogginess that angrily tried to drag him back down into unconsciousness and forced his heavy eyelids to open. His vision was cloudy and blurred. All he could make out was a shadowed figure. _An angel?_ He wondered. Come to lead him to the pearly gates to await judgement and be found wanting no doubt. Would it be purgatory or the fast track straight to hell? He certainly had enough sins tainting his soul to secure his one-way ticket.

"You're not going to hell." The voice whispered, stepping closer, and stretched out before him.

James felt ice cold fingers brush against his forehead hissing at the burn. In the blink of an eye his vision cleared, and his heart stopped as he stared up into the judgemental blue eyes of his old friend, Will. "So, I _am_ dead?" He swallowed thickly.

"Not yet." Will muttered, staring over at the machine by James's bedside. The consistent peeping echoing in the silent room.

James followed the ghosts gaze to the heart monitor where the line leapt at irregular intervals. Will took a step closer to it, lifting his hand and letting it rest on the machine. A shock of pain seemed to shoot through James's chest and the ECG line went flat for a second before starting again.

James inhaled deeply, gasping for air. "I'm sorry." He pleaded. "I'm sorry Will. I... I should never have said... "

Will stared at him coldly. "That I was going to hell?"

James closed his eyes. "I was young and..."

"Ashamed." Will interrupted. "Ashamed of me. Ashamed of _yourself_."

A tear slipped from his eye, rolling down to pool in the shell of his ear. He nodded regretfully. There was a long silence. James watched Will move around the room, pausing by the hospital window, staring out at the world beyond.

"We were so happy once, Feardorcha and me." Will said softly. "And then I messed it up. He didn't want to change, but I pushed him to." He shook his head angrily. "Then when he did, it wasn't the same. None of it was the same." He growled. "I loved him, and I destroyed him."

James's chest tightened. "He loved you too, Will." He whispered.

" _You_ don't have to tell me that." Will growled furiously.

James flinched at the venom in his old friend's voice. "Why are you here?" he asked shakily, tired and drained of all energy.

Will stared at him for a long while, making James shift uncomfortably in the bed. The ghost moved closer, hovering at the end of the hospital bed. "Dickens."

James frowned. "What?"

"Good old Charles Dickens." Will smiled icily. " _No space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused_."

"It's not Christmas." James replied, confused.

Will rolled his eyes. "You know how this works, get up."

James shook his head, finger's tightening around his bedcovers.

"I don't have all fucking day James. Well, actually I do, but you don't." He marched over, gripping James wrist and yanked him clean out of bed.

James gasped, looking back at the now abandoned bed. His gut clenched painfully when he saw himself laying there, eyes closed, breathing rapid. He looked back at Will. "So, I am dead?"

"It's more like an outer body experience." Will grunted matter-of-factly. "You'll be back soon."

James frowned. "But why? I haven't done anything to warrant any of this. I'm not a Scrooge " he insisted loudly, yanking his arm from his friend's grip.

Will turned, fixing James with a hard stare. "Look, all I know is you're heading down a dark path, and someone wants you set on a new one. So here I am, the ghost of queer past."

James heart skidded almost to a stop. "I..."

He didn't get a chance to finish whatever he was going to say, as Will once again grabbed hold of him and dragged him through the hospital room door.

The clinical white of his hospital room faded to be replaced with green grass and warm summer sunshine beating down on his face. He looked around, his heart racing. For half a second he considered the prospect that Will had in fact lied and brought him to heaven after all. He was surprised by the idea that heaven resembled the Oxfordshire countryside, he, like many no doubt, had envisioned clouds and white, and harps. It came with the territory.

However, when James turned in a wide circle and finally laid his eyes on the ominous shadow of Crevecoeur hovering across the large expanse of green, he considered it might be hell instead.

"Come on then." Will ordered coldly, marching off in front of him.

James couldn't move, or perhaps his feet just didn't _want_ to. Crevecoeur held nothing but regret, guilt and shame for him now. A dark reminder of a particually bad time in his career, and his relationship with Lewis. Ahead of him Will stopped, looking back over his shoulder and muttering something James couldn't quite hear. Then he came storming back to him, gripping his upper arm and dragging James along.

It was as if the estate had been drawn straight from his memory. The scent of the air different to the last time he'd been there, yet familiar. Luring him back to a childhood he'd long forgotten. His early life on the estate had been a happy one. Carefree. Regretfully it hadn't stayed that way. Eventually and against his will, everything had changed.

His feet dragged just a little as they approuched the large manor house, looming over them. Instead of heading up the front steps, Will changed direction, leading James along the familiar path to the out houses, and his old home. Each step conjured up a mixed sense of trepidation and longing, not to mention anger. Anger at himself. At his parents. - He'd asked himself countless times following the revelations of his Lordships abuse if his parents had known, and if they had, why they hadn't done anything. Perhaps if they had, young Briony Grahame wouldn't have suffered, and lord only knew how many others.

He drew to a halt and inhaled deeply, a cold sweat rolling down his spine. Will stared at him expectantly until he started walking again. Instead of entering through the front door, his old friend led him around to the kitchen door at the back of the cottage, and stepped aside to allow James to enter first.

James's heart skipped and stopped and started again. It had been a long time since he'd seen his parent's like that. So young. He'd never really understood what had created the gulf between them. In his early memories they'd been so in love, so happy, and then something changed. He remembered his mother's threat to leave, to abandon them. He remembered her coldness towards his father for years after they'd all left Crevecoeur. The whole family had crumbled to pieces when they'd left the estate, and he'd never really understood why.

"She's mistaken." his father said, shaking his head; looking at his wife with a mix of denial and horror. James had seen that look so many times throughout his life, and his stomach dropped. Dread taking hold, his hands beginning to shake at his side.

"Are you calling our daughter a liar?"

"No!" Philip Hathaway snapped, "But...she's a kid, I... - She probably misunderstood what was happening."

James watched his mother's features tighten with fury. "He put his hand up her skirt!" she yelled, "there is _nothing_ to misunderstand, Philip!"

His father turned his back on them all, staring out the window. Even with the distance between them James could see the way his father's hands shook, the paleness of his skin when the sun shone through the kitchen window.

"I just don't believe it." Philip muttered, "I've known his lordship for half my life. He's not..." he shook his head again, "Why now?"

"What?"

Philip turned his head slightly, not really looking at his wife, "Why did she wait till now to tell us? Why not when it happened?"

James watched his mother closely, his own stomach churning as he listened. There was only one thing they could possibly be talking about. One ' _she_ ' they could mean. He felt sick and terrified, and cold through and through.

"I don't know why she didn't tell us." Margaret Hathaway whispered, her voice breaking. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. "As for why now, isn't it obvious?" her tone hardened. "James."

James's heart stopped at the mention of him.

"He's been spending too much time up at the big house. We both know His lordship's been taking an interest in him."

Philip turned, eyes wide and back straight. Defensive. "He simply wants to help. He sees how smart and talented Jamie is."

"Just as he wanted to help Nell?" Margaret scoffed hard and broken, "Giving her all those music lessons. Helping with her Latin. - Getting her into Homewood. - And why? So, he can be alone with our daughter and..."

She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as she wept. James felt bail rise-up inside him. Even after the investigation he hadn't once considered that Nell was one of Mortmagine's victims. How had that _not_ crossed his mind?

James turned away, his eyes burning. The distressed sobs of his mother behind him, cutting like a knife to his soul. Nell had spoken up solely to protect him, and James couldn't help but recall all the arguments, the tension between them. - Every cross word uttered with no idea of what she'd done for him. How she'd saved him. He owed her so much.

In the back of his mind he wondered how his life would have changed if he'd fallen under Mortmagine's spell. Would he have ended up chained to the estate like Paul Hopkins? Would he have been the one to kill to protect his Lordship's 'good' name?

"What do you want me to do?" Philip muttered, voice weak and empty.

"We have to leave." Margaret sniffled, "We can't stay here. We can't allow that vile man anywhere near James again."

"Leave? And go where?" Philip asked, breathlessly, "Do what? Crevecoeur is all I've known. Where will we live? What will I do?"

James's stomach collapsed, torn between fury and understanding. Logically his father was right, they had very few options, and he remembered the months hauled up with a distant relative, while his father tried desperately to find work, and a place they could afford. - However, staying would mean allowing him to fall into Mortmagine's evil, destructive clutches.

"We'll find a way, Philip. - I won't stay here and watch James suffer the way Nell has, and I will _not_ make Nell stay here a moment longer." her voice raised, harsh and filled with righteous fury, "You can either come with us, or not, but I am leaving Philip. I will not stay here a moment longer."

James's head spun. In that second, he felt split in half. Those words ringing in his ears. So familiar, so haunting, terrifying. Heart-breaking. He could feel the roughness of the wood against his fingers, his chest heaving, the heavy weight of his school bag pressing into his shoulder.

James whipped around, rushing across the kitchen between his silent parents, his mother weeping once more into her hands, his father with his back to her, staring out onto the backyard and the fields beyond. Stepping through the doorway James stopped and stared down at his 11-year-old self, blonde hair almost white in the sunlight streaming in through the open cottage door. Tears glistening in his eyes. He remembers the fear, the anger. The nightmares that didn't fade until they were away from Crevecoeur. In hindsight James wondered if his parents believed those nightmares had been due to Mortmagine, rather than the world shattering fear that his parents were getting a divorce, and the end of his happy family. The terror of god's punishment of them for do something so forbidden. - How young and naïve he was.

"Come on James, we've got other things to see." Will said softly from his elbow, a gentle hand on his shoulder.

_(*-*)_

Robbie shifted on the couch, the photo album open on his lap, his children's smiling faces staring up at him. The room was warm lit only by the setting sun. He ran his fingers lightly over the image of Lyn's fifth birthday, Val's bright proud smile making his heart ache anew.

He sighed contentedly and flipped to the next page, revealing more old memories. Memories he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on for months now, always so...uncomfortable thinking about the past while trying to focus on his future with Laura.

Warm gentle fingers combed through his hair, followed by the press of soft lips. Raising his hand from the album, he sorted out the smaller familiar fingers, squeezing them lightly. "I love you."

"I love you too, love." Val whispered, squeezing back before moving around to settle in beside him on the sofa, hip to hip, her head resting on his shoulder for a few moments. "Which is why I want you to be happy." she added in a quiet but firm tone.

"I am happy." he smiled down at her, leaning forward to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.

"Are you?" She asked, leaning back to look him dead in the eye.

Robbie lent back too, frowning at her. "You know I am, Pet."

Val shook her head, "Content maybe. At peace."

Robbie turned back to the album, fingers lingering over the page ready to flip to the next.

"Laura's nice." Val said after a long comfortable silence. "I always liked her."

Robbie fidgeted against the cushions. "Aye." turning another page.

"I always knew she fancied you." Val teased lightly, shouldering Robbie.

"Nothing happened. " he quickly insisted, defensive, sitting up a little straighter.

Val smiled, shaking her head. "I know, love. I'm not stupid." she reached for his hand, stroking his thumb lightly. "I thought you'd end up with her if anything happened to me." she added sadly, "Knew you'd look for someone... _comfortable_. Someone familiar. - Someone... _safe_."

Robbie's head snapped around to stare at her, eyes narrow and searching. "Meaning?"

Val shrugged. "You never were one for taking risks, Robbie, love. It's why you stayed with Morse so long." she reached forward, sliding her fingers into the pages of the album and flipping to reveal the image of a young man, blonde hair glowing in the sunlight, blue eyes shimmering with mischief and affection.

Robbie choked, moving to close the book only for Val's firm hand to stop him.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart." she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Robbie shook his head. "It was nothing," he whispered breathlessly, gaze fixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace, "A Youthful indiscretion. Foolish curiosity."

Val's fingers played over the image and he watched as it came to life beneath her touch, moving on repeat in front of him like something out of Harry Potter. Robbie smiled for a brief moment as the memory of sitting with James one dull autumn night after work, curry open and half eaten in front of them while Gary Oldman swanned about on screen, but it soon vanished as his eyes locked with those of his past. Another blonde, another set of blue eyes.

"You can't lie to me, love. Not now." She smiled sadly at him.

Robbie's heart jumped at the young man smiling brightly up at him and he felt the tears begin to burn the back of his eyes, and his throat closed around the memories. He'd put that part of himself behind him, buried beneath the expectations of his ' _proper_ ' life.

"He's lovely." Val whispered softly against his shoulder.

Robbie shook his head. " _Was_." he corrected.

Val nodded, apologetically and Robbie's hand drifted to the photograph, fingertips brushing tentatively over the happy face. Rory Keller had been a shining light in a dimly lit world. A light extinguished far too soon and for the worst reason. He'd been the reason Robbie had joined the police. It had taken him almost twenty years before he was able to bring Rory's murderer to justice.

"He loved you." Val whispered.

Robbie swallowed the lump in his throat. "I know."

Val sat up, twisting on the sofa cushions to fix her husband with a regretful look. "And you loved him."

Robbie met her brown eyes and sighed. "I… What we have…"

"Had." Val corrected.

" _Had_ ," Robbie choked, "It was real, you have to know that." he demanded firmly, turning fully to face her. "I love you so much Val. You were my everything. I'll never love anyone like I loved you." A tear rolled down Robbie's cheek at the announcement.

"I know, sweetheart," She lifted her hand to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb beneath his eye. "Loving him doesn't change that." he gaze dropped to the album again, and Robbie followed her gaze to find the page turned, and the photo that of another blond young man with mischief in his blue eyes.

_(*-*)_

James's throat was thick with sorrow as he allowed Will to lead him away, his thoughts swirling around, tormented by what he'd just witnessed. His younger self fleeing back out of the cottage, across the yard straight towards the main house. A shiver ran down his spine as the memory replayed itself. What would have happened if Mortmagine hadn't taken the family to France for the summer.

Had that been why Nell felt safe to tell their mother?

With no one to turn to, James had sort sanctuary in the small chapel on the estate. He's sat in the dark damp structure, head bowed praying his parents wouldn't separate. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, and it had help secure his faith in the Lord and set him on the path to the seminary.

He turned his gaze back to Will, squinting when they moved from the dim lighting of the cottage hall and into a bright equally familiar living room.

_(*-*)_

Robbie wandered back into the living room, setting the steaming mugs on the coffee table. Val was sat with the album on her lap, staring down at the open pages with a soft smile on her face. As Robbie made himself comfortable once more, handing her a mug, he glanced over to see that his wife was staring at a familiar face, though he didn't recognize the photograph. "How'd that get in there?" he asked quietly.

"Sometimes Robbie, love, you're so oblivious. How could you possibly not notice?" she ran her fingers across the page, once again the still figures came to life.

Robbie leant a little closer, watching the images with curiosity and amazement. They looked both familiar and yet strange. He and James in Robbie's flat while Robbie got all suited up for his 'date' with Innocent. The image pulled his memory back from the dark corners of his mind, crystal clear and perfect. As if he were there once again. He remembered the way James had looked thoughtful and yet amused while discussing drugs and religion. He remembered them discussion of Nietzsche, and the way James's voice had softened. He watched as the 'photo' showed James staring at the frame on his coffee table, of him and Val.

 _"Maybe it's not an interest you really need at the moment."_ he remembers James saying. _"Maybe that's why you can't pick a course."_

 _"Well, if not an interest, what?"_ Robbie had replied, curiously.

And there it was again, that gentling of his voice. The subtle glance at Val's photo as he spoke. _"I don't know."_ and then the sudden change of subject. The desperate need to disappear. _"Look, I'm holding you up. Now, have a really good night."_ he'd finished, voice thick with sarcasm, despite the straight face he was presenting.

Robbie felt his heart tightened as the image began again, the same look, the same words replaying in his mind. He ripped his gaze away, shaking his head to dislodge the memory. Surprised and comforted by the warmth of a hand on his thigh.

But it wasn't the only picture. Val gave him a gentle nudge, drawing his attention back to the album, her fingers playing at the edge of another moment, another memory replaying in his head.

He and James beside the river. James looked down at him as he attempted fruitlessly to write that damn speech. A soft smile on his face.

 _"Thank you."_

 _"Ah, give over."_

 _"No, I just wanted you to know how grateful I am, before I get drunk, so you know I mean it."_

Robbie took a sharp breath. The echo of that small flutter of his heart reverberating forward from his past. The way his mind had gone blank, the sudden inability to focus. The way he'd become flustered.

 _"Oh, for God's sake, just write this thing for me, will you, Jim?"_

The name had slipped out, an intimacy to it that he'd known instantly shouldn't have been there. They'd barely been working together eight weeks and three days. They'd barely begun to build a partnership, let alone a friendship, and yet it had rolled off his tongue so easily. As if it had belonged there.

He'd made doubly sure never to say it again after that. It was always James or Hathaway, or Sergeant, even when they were alone. Even when they were sat in the pub having a pint or pressed close together eating curry and watching crap TV. It was never Jim again.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter Title by Sarah Dessen [What happened to Goodbye]** _ **"Your past is always your past. Even if you forget it, it remembers you** "_

* * *

 **Even if You Forget it, it Remembers You**

James's feet dragged as he climbed the stairs, his attention quickly captured by the photos hanging on the wall, of a happy family. His heart clenched with the knowledge they wouldn't remain that way. Will's family would implode, crumbling to dust beneath the weight of Will's revelation. James wouldn't be there to see it happen though, he'd be watching from a distance, because what happened with the McEwan's hit too close to him, bringing his fears to the surface once more. - Helping to heighten his denial. He would not allow his own feelings to destroy his family. He would not become like Mortmagine.

Of course, now he knew how foolish he'd been. How naïve and scared. But has he'd said to Robbie, kids are stupid.

"Come on!" Will called from the top of the stairs, and James sighed, hurrying on weak legs to stop beside his old friend, in front of Will's bedroom door. His stomach clenched tightly, his heart beginning to race with fear.

Will shot a brief glance before stepping forward, melting into the door. James inhaled deeply, closing his eyes before he followed.

He found exactly what he'd expected on the other side of the door. His younger self and Will, sat on the floor, back's pressed to the bed, video game controllers in their hands. The summer sun was pouring in through the window to their left, the light bringing out the small hints of gold in Will's dark hair and causing his own hair to glow like a halo.

The young Will turned to James's younger self, a warm smile on his face, and James felt his stomach flip at the meaning behind that look, and he braced himself. His mind was once again conflicted between what he was seeing and what he remembered.

He glanced over at his dead friend, watching as Will watched the past play out. The man's gaze flickering away with a pained wince, turning his back on the scene to stare down at a messy desk filled with unfinished homework and magazines. James forced himself to look back and inhaled sharply when he found his younger self staring back at Will. He felt his skin prickle and the hairs on the back of his head raise with anticipation.

 _"He came out to me that summer when we were 14. I think he thought that we'd kiss, and everything would be roses, but, you know, we were kids, and kids are stupid. I couldn't be anything other than a horrible teenager."_ That's what he'd told Robbie when pressed, and he'd believed it. It had seemed so clear in his memory.

Except there were no words spoken. No hopeful declaration made. There was simply a silent agreement, and then the meeting of lips in an innocent kiss. A kiss shared over a game of Mario Kart, in the warm cocoon of Will's childhood bedroom. A kiss that James had apparently erased from his memory.

James stared, heart pounding almost painfully. It was so different to what he'd thought, so…

A knock sounded on the door, and their younger selves sprang apart, faces flushed and eyes wide with panic. When the door opened it was to reveal Mrs. McEwen, his face bright and happy. "Dinner boys." she said sweetly.

As if nothing incredibly life changing had happened, their younger selves leapt to their feet and followed the woman out of the room. Their laughter echoing back into the room. James stared at the still open door, his chest clenched tight against his racing heart, and his palm and neck damp with sweat.

"That…" James whispered, not moving, "That's not what happened." he muttered, as if trying to dismiss what he'd just seen.

Will scoffed behind him. "This is your past."

"But…" he turned finally, fixing his gaze on Will's back. "…you came out to me, you told me you were gay?"

Will tilted his head to the side, eyes hard. "Yeah. In three days' time I tell you that I'm gay and I like you…"

"And I laugh." James nods.

Will turned more fully, arms folding over his chest. "You laugh. - And you pretend that that…." he waved at the now empty space in front of his bed, "…didn't happen."

James dropped his gaze, lips pressed painfully together in a thin line. "And then, you stop talking to me. You don't take my phone calls, you avoid me at school and start hiding in the back of the library."

"We had GCSE's coming up." James defended weakly, fully aware how pathetic it was as an excuse.

Will didn't dignify it with a response, simply scoffing and marching past him towards the door. "You broke my heart James." he confessed on the threshold. "And it won't be the only time, will it?"

_(*-*)_

Robbie tried desperately not to look at the remaining two photographs, too scare of what he'd see. What he'd remember. What _Val_ would see. However, he was a copper, had been most of his life, and curiosity was a coppers best friend, _and_ worst enemy. His eyes slid to the page and to the final two photos.

The one in the top right corner caused his heart to beat harder before the memory can fully form in his mind. He could already feel the way his stomach tightened at the scene. The brightly coloured flags, the happy faces, a nervous looking James eager to be away, scared of the truth.

He could hear Will McEwen's voice as clear as a bell in his head. Remembered the way his heart has sped up and a thin layer of sweat had begun to coat his palms.

 _"I'm going to tell you a story. Once upon a time, there were two men in love."_

Robbie inhaled slowly through his nose, the memory of Rory warring with his recollection of that evening.

 _"They were nice men. Never hurt anybody, but they rowed sometimes, as lovers do, so they joined a group. Bit of couple counselling. The group was called The Garden. And it lived for one reason. To cure gays. Like we're some disease. And they got inside the head of this man, and they made him hate himself and his one true love. I... I reached out. I did. I asked a good friend. I said, "Is this really what God wants for me?" and he said, "Yes." So, I went back. And they ripped me apart. But I'm telling you now, because I can see it so clearly, love is never wron_ g _."_

"I don't know why he just didn't tell me?"

Val looked at him, brow quirked. "Come on, Robbie, love, you know exactly why he didn't tell you."

Robbie slouched down against the sofa, watching the scene play out in full. The realization, the condemnation. The loud argument in the streets of Oxford and then the weeks of tension. "Shame or fear?" He muttered to himself.

"Both." Val replied in a gentle tone. "He had no way of knowing how you'd react."

"I told him I wouldn't care. I said that if my boy..."

Val stared at him, brow raised, "Saying you'd be alright with your lad being gay, love, isn't the same as telling him your..."

"I'm not gay!" Robbie cut in, sharp and defensive, and Val stared.

God, he was always so defensive and angry when it came to his sexuality. It was par the course when your raised in a northern town by a good church going family. When you go to school, and then work, with lads who don't have to hide their hatred and disgust. When even the law doesn't care what happens to a young lad found kicked to death. - When you have to hide what you feel for fear of joining him. "You think I should have told him?" He said quietly, eyes locked on the middle distance.

"I think there are a good few things you should have told him. Maybe if you had, love, neither of you would be in this mess."

Robbie's head snapped around to stare at his wife, eyes wide. "Where's James?" He demanded, panicked.

Val's features softened sadly, "With an old friend," she said calmly.

"Is he...?"

"He's alive, for now." Val pressed her lips together in that way she always did when she was about to say something he wasn't going to like.

"Val?" He pressed.

"He's not out of the woods love." Val said sympathetically, flipping to the last page of the album.

Robbie stared at his dead wife in horror for a few seconds before dropping his eyes to the photograph. He inhaled sharply, heart beating hard in his chest. There was James, face scratched and bruised, tubes coming out of his mouth, arms and from beneath the sheet. Beside him, Robbie could see the heart monitor, the thin green line jumping in time with James's slow, stuttering heartbeat.

James was alone, and Robbie felt his insides twist. He should be there, at his bedside, watching over him. Waiting for him to open those beautiful blue eyes and likely mutter some poetic quote or bible verse, or just say something darn well inappropriate.

He should be at his side, just as he'd been last time. Shirt sleeves rolled up, neck crooked awkwardly as he balanced his head perilously on his hand. Waiting. Praying he wouldn't lose him too.

Val's hand rested on his thigh once more, startling him. She gave it a gentle squeeze, and Robbie forced his sore blurry gaze away from the album to her.

"He'll be alright though, right lass?"

Val gave him half a smile, "Hopefully, if he wants to be."

"Wants to be?" Robbie frowned, "Why _wouldn't_ he want to be?"

Val sighed, looking mournfully at her husband, "You know him better than I do, love."

Robbie scoffed humorlessly, "Right now, Pet, I doubt that."

Val patted his leg lightly before getting to her feet, "Why don't I make us a nice cuppa, and then we'll see what's on TV."

She was gone before Robbie had a chance to argue, leaving him alone to stare worriedly down at the photo album, replaying the event that lead him to being sat in his old living room with his dead wife.

_(*-*)_

The moment he stepped into the room, James froze.

In front of him, not twenty feet away, stood his mother, head bowed, shoulders slumped. He shivered and gasped sharply as a familiar young form burst through him, skidding to a stop. His mum turning with wide tear-filled eyes, hands trembling around the tightly grasped magazine.

He remembered the day, this moment, this exact second so clearly. It had haunted him all his life, more than any other.

The strange thing was, he couldn't remember where the magazine had come from, how he'd gotten it. Why he'd kept it, hidden away in the back of his bedside cabinet. Never imagining his mother would find it. All he remembered was the look of pain and fear in her watery eyes, and the overpowering feeling of shame and judgement that had flooded through him.

He watched himself now, the school bag slipping from his limp fingers to hit the floor with a dull thud. Despite not really being there, being a specter in the past, James could feel the heat and tension in the room. The sweat rolling down his spine. He could feel the sharp pain in his heart every time he drew in a breath, and the trembling of his hands.

He watched his mother, an outside observer now, rather than the target of all that attention, all that disappointment. Her cheeks were drawn and pale, her breathing labored and her body shaking. As a boy, the boy stood only a few feet away, he'd seen it as anger and disgust. Now though, after years in front of criminals and victims, he saw it for what it was. Panic, fear, guilt. As if that magazine was her own doing.

"I…" his younger self stammered, voice breaking around the single syllable.

His mother shook her head, swallowing thickly and tossing the magazine into the black bag at her feet. "We'll never speak of this…" she whispered, avoiding his younger self's eyes only to lock with his.

It would be a long time before she looked him in the eye again. Not until he was cloaked in black and clutching a bible like a shield. - And when he walked away from the priesthood, that look would return. The constant look of suspicion. It was still there when she was lying on her death bed, face pale and gaunt, looking up at him with sadness.

James turned away, walking quickly out of the room, throat tight and pained, eyes dampening.

Will hurried after him, grabbing at his shoulder. "Jim?"

James glared at him, "I'm tired of this!" he snapped, "Just send me to purgatory or hell, or home! Just stop this!" he shrieked, gasping breathlessly as his racing heart stole the oxygen from his lungs.

Will stood there, considering him for a long while. "I… - I didn't," he shook his head, looking back behind him to the bedroom door at a frozen memory from James's past. "Is that why you stopped talking to me?" he asked quietly.

James stiffened, head hung low.

"Answer me?" Will pleaded, "I want to understand?"

"Understand?" James sighed, "I don't even understand." he shook his head, dragging his fingers through his hair. "My memory is so…. fragmented. Jumbled. - She found that magazine and everything changed in such small ways that no one noticed." he turned, fixing Will with a broken stare, "I didn't even notice. I felt it, the difference. Every day. Every morning. Every night. The looks. The suspicion. The judgement. But she never disowned me, never pushed me away. In fact, she did the opposite, she kept me close, so close I was drowning. She watched over me, took me to church, preached at me. She suffocated me, and I didn't even know what she feared. She told me she was protecting me, that there were men out there that prayed on boys like me, that I had to be careful. That I couldn't give in because then I'd become one of those monsters."

James inhaled deeply, eyes looking over Will's head to his younger self, visible through the open bedroom door. So young, so innocent and confused, and scared of his own desires. "I chose to go to Cambridge to escape it. Escape her. My own mother, and I…." he shook his head, and looked at his old friend.

Will was staring at him, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. "Why didn't you tell me?"

James scoffed, "I didn't understand any of it, not for years." he shook his head, "I buried the feelings deep, so deep. I went to Cambridge and surrounded myself with people who thought like my mother," he chuckled, "I went there to escape her and ended up surrounded by carbon copies." he dragged his hand through his hair, "I avoided anything that might…interest me. I told myself over and over, that I wanted to be a priest, but really it was what my mother wanted of me,"

James moved towards the stairs, lowering himself down onto the top step and staring at the hallway below, the stand by the wall with the house phone on it, a Yellow Pages beneath and a mirror on the wall above. The wall leading down decorated with school portraits of him and Nell. He'd been happy in this house, for the most part. Despite his mother's odd ability to hold him close while keeping him at a distance. Despite never really having anything in common with his father. Even though he was alone.

Then he'd boarded a train to Cambridge. "I was surrounded by people telling me what I was feeling was wrong, and I believed it." he looked up to meet Will's gaze, "You _know_ I believed it."

Will nodded sadly, sighing.

"They took my faith and twisted it, twisted me into something unrecognizable." he muttered, "So much so that I rewrote my past to avoid facing it. - Everything would have been so different I'd listen to my own conscience and not the fears of other people."

"Yeah." Will whispered, voice cracking, "It would." They met gazes for a few silent minutes, then Will moved to take a seat next to James, "What changed?" he asked finally.

James looked at him, brow raised, "Shouldn't you already know the answer to that?" he scoffed.

Will smiled sadly, "I only know what I'm shown." he shrugged.

James stared down the stairs, hands still trembling in his lap. "I…fell in love."

_(*-*)_

"Here you go love." Val said softly, handing Robbie a mug of hot tea and settling down next to him on the sofa, and for a few blissful minutes he allowed himself to believe it was real. That they were together again, when she leant forward and flipped on the TV.

The familiar golden landscape of Oxford swept across the screen. The tall dome and golden stone that made up the university. So familiar to him after half a life spent moving between them. Then the bright sunlight faded to night and another familiar setting, The Trout.

The scene moved through the pub to the far back corner and Robbie's gut clenched at the sight of James and a woman. The woman he'd had to drag his ex-sergeant away from before he'd ended up here.

"He is handsome," Val observed matter-of-factly, "Though...I thought you like 'em a bit plump?" She chuckled, "That's what you said when I went on that diet."

Robbie looked at her, lips curving into a wide cheeky grin, "I was just trying to talk you out of it, so's I could keep eatin' fish and chips, and chicken curries." He laughed, eyes sparkling. The back of Val's hand connected with his arm, "Ouch!"

They chuckled together for a few warm blissful seconds, then Robbie's gaze was drawn back to the TV. James was staring down into his drink sadly.

 _"I wonder a lot what my life would have been without him."_

Robbie's heart leapt into his throat, and he held his breath.

 _"What path I may have taken. I was so close to quitting when we met. This close."_

"Did you know that?" Val asked beside him.

Robbie nodded, "He's mentioned it once, but…" but he'd dismissed it as meaningless.

 _"I was tired of all the snide comments, the whispers behind my back. If I'd known the ridicule and lack of trust the graduate scheme would send my way, I'd have never applied."_

 _"Then imagine all those criminals you wouldn't have put away."_ his date replied softly. _"All those people you wouldn't have helped."_

James sighed, nodded. _"I know, and I don't think I would have done half as much good without him. I've seen how other inspectors treat their sergeants. I would have been little more than someone elses errand boy. Robbie never treated me like that."_

"He's right you know." Val whispered, "You treat him far better than Morse treated you."

"That's because I learnt from Morse how not to treat my sergeant." He watched on as he arrived, struggling to drag James out of the pub and to his car. Then he said it, those words that had hit Robbie right in the middle of the chest, stealing his breath.

 _"Do you think if we'd met in another time, another life, that you'd have chosen me?"_

And the truth was, he had no idea.

The screen froze on James's face, blue eyes pleading and tormented. Heartbroken in a way Robbie hadn't seen since he'd confessed to him about Will McEwen.

Val's hand slid over his shoulder, squeezing lightly as she pushed herself off the sofa, hovering beside him. "I think it's time to wake up now Robbie, love." she whispered.

Robbie tore his eyes away from the screen to stare up at his wife, "I'm not ready."

She crouched down in front of him, cradling his face, "Ready or not, you're going to wake up, and when you do, remember this." she glanced at the room, the TV and the open photo album. "Remember and ask yourself, are you being fair? To him," she nodded back to the TV, "To Laura. - And most importantly, to yourself. I want you to be happy Robbie, not satisfied. Not content. Happy. Like we were once upon a time." she kissed him again.

Getting to her feet, Val smiled warm and bright, "I have to go now, love. I have an appointment with a tall handsome stranger."

Robbie gripped her hands tight, unwilling to let go, and Val swallowed thickly, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Let go love." she said softly, leaning back down to press her lips to his cheek, "Let go of it all, and be happy. - Give my love to the kids." she straightened and gently pulled her hand from her husbands, "I love you Robbie."

"I love you too, Pet." Robbie sniffled, tears flowing over his flushed cheeks as he watched his wife step around the sofa and out of the door.

_(*-*)_

James looked up from his hands when Will's shoulders stiffened beside him and found himself staring down the stairs at a familiar face he'd never met.

"Hello James," she smiled, "Fancy taking a walk?"


	4. Chapter 3

**When you forgive, you love.**

Robbie slowly forced his eyes open, his vision blurred and out of focus, the dream slowly slipping away. He reached for it, dragged it back and held on to it was a vice like grip.

"Let go of it all and be happy."

That's what Val had said, let go. He knew she meant for him to let go of the past. Let go of the fear. Let go of the shame and be happy. Happy with who he was. Most importantly, happy with... "James."

"Robbie?" A hand tightened around his fingers, too tight, too small, "You're alright. I'm here, Robbie."

His vision cleared, and he turned his head, disappointment and then shame curling around his insides. He should be happy to see Laura. Should feel relieved. Should want to smile and pull her close and kiss her.

Instead all he did do was ask, "James"

Her face fell, and her tired red rimmed eyes became sad suddenly, something flickering in their depths he hadn't noticed before, but recognised far too well. "He's in ICU. Internal bleeding, broken ribs and right arm." She spoke as if she were filling him on a case, instead of talking about a friend.

But then, had Laura ever considered James a friend? Did she even really like him? His mind flickered back to conversations about and too him. Always light and with a smile. Always slightly dismissive. Always just a little too close to the bone.

A nurse burst into the room, followed swiftly by a doctor, introducing themselves as Nurse Dexter and Dr Collins. While he got poked and parodied, asked stupid questions like the date and his mother's maiden name, he watched Laura hover of to the side, her gaze never meeting his.

"Remember and ask yourself, are you being fair? You him, to Laura. - And most importantly, to yourself?"

"Mr Lewis?" The doctor said, drawing his attention from his girlfriend. Girlfriend in need, they were both too long in the tooth for such a youthful term, but Robbie hadn't quite been able to use the word partner, because he already had one of those.

Focusing his attention of the handsome young black doctor, he smiled, "My head feels like it's had a railway spike shoved through it."

Dr Collins nodded, lips stretched wide, "Completely expected, Mr Lewis, you suffered a rather powerful blow to the head when the car went off the road. Quite frankly, you are lucky to be alive."

"I know," Robbie grumbled, "What about James? Hathaway?"

The doctor's bright smile faded instantly, and he took a breath, "Sergeant Hathaway is still in critical condition."

Robbie couldn't help but shoot Laura a betrayed look, she'd made it sound as if he was going to be fine. When he looked at the doctor the man was whispering to the nurse. "When can I see him?"

Collins looked up, frowning, "You have a broken ankle and a couple of fractured rib, not to mention you've just woken up."

"I need to see him." Robbie insisted, ignoring the way Laura stiffened at the demand.

The doctor glanced at Laura then back to him, "Mr Lewis, I'm afraid only family can see Sergeant Hathaway at present."

Robbie pressed his lips into a thin line, fighting back the frustration and anger, he was practically family. "Have they been contracted?" He asked. Hr wasn't even sure if James had any contact with his family, he mentioned them so rarely.

"His sister is with him." Collins reassured.

His sister. Good. He hated the idea of James laying in a cold white hospital room alone. Robbie nodded, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again it was just him and Laura, and the sun had shifted across the room. Laura was sat in a chair beside the bed, her head back against the cushion and her eyes closed. Robbie watched her guiltily for a minute. Val was right, she deserved better. But she'd waited so long for him, patiently hovering in the shadow until he was ready to move on. Move forward.

The problem was, he'd come to realise, he was moving forward with the wrong person.

It wasn't such a revelation. Not really. He'd always known how he felt about James, no matter how much he'd tried to deny it, but the lad, he'd been a cold fish. Never quite giving him the right signals, always keeping a part of himself back. He'd tried, one last time before moving on with Laura, and as always, he'd been dismissed, brushed aside. James had turned him in the direction of Laura, and this time Robbie had gone, had given up waiting.

Had he given up too soon?

Laura stirred, and Robbie braced himself. She opened her eyes, looked at him and smiled. It was that same bright smile she'd given him every day they'd been together, but which had never quite touched Robbie's heart, Not like Rory's, not like Val's. - And not like James's.

"Pet, " Robbie said softly, watching the smile fade. He felt like a bastard. A complete fucking toss. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be anyone's second choice, or their safety net. "I..." He swallowed thickly, taking a breath. "I need to tell you something."

_(*-*)_

James stared, hardly believing his eyes. It was as if she'd stepped straight out of the photograph Robbie kept, _had_ kept on his desk. He blinked but she was still there, smiling up at him from the bottom of the stairs.

Glancing to his right he found Will looking at him, sadness in his eyes. Then a set of arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight. James blinked back tears as he returned the hug. "I'm sorry, Will." He whispered into the ghost's ear, "Forgive me?"

Will drew back, meeting James watery eyes, "When you forgive, you love. And when you love, God's light shines upon you."

"Jon Krakauer," James muttered softly.

"I forgive you James, can you forgive me."

"Of course,"

Will looked away, staring sadly down the stairs. "Can you...forgive him."

James didn't need to ask who Will meant, "Yes, Will." He said, squeezing his friends shoulder.

"It's time for you to go, Will," Mrs Lewis said gently, "Someone is waiting for you."

Will's eyes widened, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Looking back to James he smiles, "Goodbye James." Getting to his feet he rested his hand on James shoulder for a long moment, then he turned away, walking back towards the bedroom. He never reached it, fading away before James's eyes.

"Shall we?" Mrs Lewis said from the ground floor, her hand outstretched to him.

Taking a deep breath, James pulled himself to his feet and made his way down the stairs, slow and full of caution.

It can't be a good sign that his ex-boss - and the man he's spent the last seven years being in love with, - dead wife has cine to take him on some kind of journey through his present. Was she going to show him just how pointless his feeling for her husband were? Show him that while he was in a coma, Robbie was safe and warm in his Laura's arms.

Reaching the bottom, he licked at his lips nervously and incline his head in greeting, "Mrs Lewis."

The older woman stared at him, her brown eyes flickering between his blue ones. Then she smiled, warm and bright, "Call me Val." She insisted, slipping her hand around his arm and leading him towards the door. "You're taller in person," she observed, " And far too skinny, you need to eat more."

James stared down at her, brows pinched together in confusion. "Yes, ma'am, " was all he could think to say.

The door opened unaided and the pair stepped through. James squinted against the sudden intense light, and when his vision finally cleared, he found himself stood back in his hospital room, staring at his own unconscious body.

He watched the heart monitor as it proved rather unsteadily that he was still alive. Then he was being gently tugged away and out of the room, down the bustling corridor, unseen by the staff.

They walked in silence which only made him grow increasingly anxious. "Mrs Lewis,"

"Val." She insisted again, and James shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I can't call you that, it feels...wrong." He waited for her to argue, but she only inclined her head and remained silent. Taking a breath, James continued, "Mrs Lewis, why are you here?"

The woman smiled, patting his arm reassuringly, "I'm here to teach you a few things. Didn't Will explain."

"He mentioned something about a Christmas carol."

Mrs Lewis chuckled, "That'll make me the ghost of Christmas present then."

"I guess so." He replied, nervously.

"It's pretty apt I suppose. - ah, here we are, come on." She nodded towards a door before stepping through it, literally.

James glancing around, looking at the unfamiliar staff scattered around. Hr startles when a Mrs Lewis's face popped back though the door.

"I said, come on. This is too important to miss." With that she reached through the door and wrapped her fingers around his wrist and yanked him in after her.

On the other side James inhaled deeply as they came to a stop inches from the end of Robbie's bed. He was sat up, face battered and torn, pale as death and with his arm wrapped in plaster. Beside him sat Laura, sadness and worry in her eyes.

"I should have known it would happen, I suppose." Laura said, voice wavering and wet with tears, "Things haven't been how I expected." She whispered, "the fantasy not living up to the reality."

James frowned, looking from Laura to Robbie to Mrs Lewis.

"I'm sorry pet." Robbie said sincerely, "I never planned for any of this."

Laura looked at him angrily, "Didn't you?"

"Laura," he sighed, "You know I didn't."

"Then why is it happening Robbie?"

Robbie looked at his hands and then towards the end of the bed, "Because we all deserve to be happy, pet, and I can't make you happy when..."

"When you're in love with someone else." She finished bitterly.

James heart skipped a beat, only for his brain to forcibly remind him that Robbie wasn't, couldn't be talking about him. They more likely meant Mrs Lewis. Obviously, Robbie hadn't been as ready to move on as he believed he was. Clearly Robbie was going to me the kind of man who never loved again.

"I'm sorry."

Laura huffed out and angry breath and got to her feet, shoving the chair back a few inches and them marching around the bed. "Stopped saying sorry!" She snapped furiously, heading for the window, bracing herself on the ledge, head hanging forwards as her shoulders shook. "Does he know?"

James frowned, looking back to his ex-boss.

"I doubt it, oblivious sod he is. - Then I haven't been particularly insightful where he was, _is_ concerned."

"And if he doesn't wake up?" Laura asked bluntly, looking over at him, red rimmed eyes filled with heartache, "Will you want me then?"

Robbie glared at her, "He'll wake up. As soon as he's ready," he looked to the end of the bed, "he'll wake up"

James heart did that stuttering thing again and he sucked in an unexpected breath. He couldn't possibly see him, could he?

As if reason his mind, Mrs Lewis muttered, "He can't see you."

James's shoulder slumped sadly, his eyes shifting to the white blanket coving Robbie's feet.

Laura turned back to the window, shaking her head, "of course he will. - But..." She turned, once again, "Robbie you don't even know if he returns your feelings? Have you even seen him with a man?"

The air left James's lungs, his eyes snapping back to stare at Robbie, Mrs Lewis's hand on his arm.

"No, but that doesn't mean anything," Robbie insisted, "I rarely ever saw him with a lass either."

"Rarely, but not never." Laura countered sharply, and Robbie flinched, suddenly doubtful.

James moved to take a step forward, only to freeze, shaking his head. A paused for a second and then slowly began to back up, away from the bed, "No." he muttered, shaking his head, "This isn't real." his heart ached, and the tears filled his eyes.

"Of course, it's real." Mrs. Lewis reassured quietly, reaching out to touch his arm.

James flinched away from it, "No. This can't be real. Rob… He'd never…" he looked at the woman, betrayed and guilty, "I'm being punished, aren't I? This is my torment. Showing me what I really want but can never have."

Mrs. Lewis's face fell, eyes filled with sadness, "Oh, lad, no. No, this isn't a punishment." she stepped closer, only for James to skirt around her and made a dash for the door. He paused, glancing back longingly at Robbie before bursting through it, ignoring Mrs. Lewis's calls for him to stop

_(*-*)_

Robbie stared at Laura, his chest aching with guilt and regret. He never wanted to hurt her, that was the last thing he'd ever planned to do. He cared for her, deeply, just… He just didn't love her, not the way he'd loved Val, or Rory…. Or James.

She was right though, he had no proof that James would feel the same, not proof that James even liked men. Nothing but Val's words and a faith he didn't think he had in him anymore. Val wouldn't have forced him to face his past and his feelings for James if there weren't a chance that James would feel the same. That would be cruel, and his Val was never cruel.

There was the thought in the back of his mind, whispering that none of it had been real, that it had all a trick his mind had played on him, giving him visions of what he wanted most. - And yes, they could very well be true. It's what his rational mind insisted. However, that didn't change the fact that his subconscious, if that's what it truly had been, hadn't shown him Laura. Val hadn't congratulated him on finding love again with such a kind, funny, beautiful woman. No, she's told him he was being safe. That he'd never be happy with her because she wasn't what he really wanted. So even if it were all just his mind, his mind was telling him the truth when he most needed to hear it. He didn't love Laura, and he was well on his way to a cool, uneventful future.

"Whether he feels the same or not, Laura, is irrelevant." Robbie said, staring down at his hands, his forefinger picking at the hangnail on his thumb.

"Irrelevant? How is it irrelevant, Robbie? You're ending our relationship on the off chance that Hathaway has some secret gay crush on you!" she spat coldly.

Robbie looked at her, biting back the anger her words and tone ignited inside him, because she was perfectly right to be angry at him. "It's irrelevant, Laura, because…" he sighed, wishing he didn't have to say it, wishing she'd just have accepted his decision with grace and a cool understanding. - That she hadn't have cared for him more than he cared for her. "…because I don't love you Laura." he said quietly, voice breaking on the words.

Laura inhaled sharply, eyes wide and glistening with angry unshed tears, "Funny, you said you did."

Robbie hated himself, hated it all. "I… - I lied, I'm sorry. - I… I thought that I'd grow to love you. That if I said it enough it would become the truth, I'm…"

Laura turned her back on him, head falling into her hands and her shoulders shook as she wept silently. Robbie turned his eyes away, unable to watch. He didn't deserve Laura, she was too good for him. - And he didn't deserve James, either. He didn't deserve to be happy when all he did was cause so much pain in those he cared for.

The memory of James in his car before the accident came back to him. The look of tired painful resignation on his face. The soppy way he'd looked at him, only to turn away with a regretful sigh. The dark shadows under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, he hadn't been taking care of himself.

"So that's it?" Laura said, voice wrecked and straining to maintain some semblance of stability, "It's over, whether James wants you or not?"

Robbie looked up from his hands, nodding, "I'm sorry."

Laura stared at him, lips a thin line, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her trousers, probably so he can't see them shaking, "Sorry is just a word Robbie." She said bitterly. She marched around the bed and grabbed her coat and bag, holding them both firmly against her chest. Looking back at him, Laura swallowed, "I'm glad you're not dead." She said coldly. Robbie flinched at the flat unfeeling delivery. "Though, it might have hurt less to have you on my table than in my bed," she added, violently yanking open the door and storming out of the room, letting it slowly close behind her.

Alone, Robbie slumped back against the pillows and closed his eyes, wariness pulling him back to sleep.

_(*-*)_

James blinked as the bright light of the hospital dimmed to reveal a dark urban landscape, unfamiliar to him. He looked confused, at the people strolling merrily past him, seemingly ignorant of his presence. A young woman with a large old _Silvercross_ pram strolled past him, her hair backcombed into a small beehive and her shirt barely visible beneath the hem of her brown thick coat. He looked to his right, frowning at a young man with dirt on his face and overalls, a tin lunchbox in his hand. He turned in a wide circle to stare around him.

Off in the distance he could see large chimney stacks, towering over the city. The sky above them dark from the smoke billowing out of them. In the other direction he could see the Tyne Bridge. James's head began to spin, and his heart was racing. A hand on his arm, made him jump out of his skin, he turned to stare wide eyes down at Valarie Lewis. "W-where are we?"

"The past." She said softly, looking around, her lip curling up at two small boys who came speeding past them, not a care in the world.

James shook his head, looking back to the Bridge, "Are you supposed to be showing me the present?" he accused.

"I was, but apparently, you need another trip into the past." She scolded, looking up at him with a raised brow.

He shook his head, "I've never been to Newcastle."

Mrs. Lewis chuckled, "I know that, sweetheart," she smiled, "This isn't your past." She nodded across the street and James turned, inhaling sharply at the recognisable features of Robbie. Younger, in his teens would be James's guess, but it was most definitely Robbie. "He hasn't changed." He muttered, staring at him.

Val sighed, "No," she shook her head, "he hasn't,"

James frowned at the intensity in the woman's voice, but didn't look at her, too focused on Robbie as he strolled along the high street with another young man. They're laughing, and James feels an odd twist of jealousy in his gut that is irrational and ridiculous. He didn't even know Robbie Lewis as a teenager. – Hell, he wasn't even born yet. Not even a twinkle in his mother's eyes.

"That's Rory," Mrs. Lewis says beside him, nodding at the young blond, "Robbie's closest friend."

James's heart twisted, it wasn't jealously as much as sadness that he knew so little about the man he loved. The man he'd spent the past seven years with. Always so close and yet, so far away.

Not that he was one to talk, he rarely spoke about his family unless it came up in the conversations.

"Come on," Mrs. Lewis said, tugging gently on his arm.

He allowed her to pull him across the busy street, as if there weren't cars coming and going, but then it wasn't as if they'd get hurt. They followed the two young men around a corner and into a quiet alley down the back of a row of houses.

James kept his eyes on Robbie's, smiling softly to himself when Robbie laughed so loud it drifted back to him.

After a few minutes of walking, Robbie and his friend turned, slipping through the back gate of a house. Val trailed, no longer bothering to pull him along with her, fully aware that James would follow. The moment they stepped through the back door, James felt as if he'd been punched in the chest. His eyes widened as he stared dumbfounded at a young Robbie, and his friend pressed up against a dirt covered counter, kissing.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: "Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides." ― André Malraux**

* * *

 **Man is Not What He Thinks He Is**

Robbie woke slowly and for a few blissful moments he forgot where he was. He hadn't dreamt of Val again, but rather of James. He and James had just finished a case, and as they'd been want to do, they'd headed to the pub. Unlike usual however, instead of going their separate ways, they'd driven back to Robbie's old flat. Once inside, things quickly grew heated, the pair kissing and pawing at one another's clothes before tumbling back naked into Robbie's bed.

Which was why, for those first few seconds of consciousness, Robbie half expected to turn his head and see the soft golden locks of his sergeant. – ex-sergeant. - _James_.

It was also why the blanket was bulging inappropriately. Robbie flushed, hoping a nurse hadn't come in and witnessed his indiscretion. He didn't care how professional they were, there were somethings he didn't want young lasses seeing.

Shifting on the mattress, Robbie winced at the ache in his back, and reached for the remote to raise the bed a little more, looking around the room sorrowfully, the guilt of his break up coming back to haunt him again. He wondered if Laura had called Lyn to tell her, not that he could call and ask. There was a part of him that wanted to leave it and not worry his girl, but…well she'd kill him if he didn't. - And being the daughter of a copper meant she'd probably get away with it.

Shifting the covers, so as to better disguise his still hard prick, Robbie pressed the button for assistance. Thankfully, by the time the young nurse strolled into the room, he had himself under control.

"Are you alright, Mr. Lewis?" she asked with a warm concerned smile, and Robbie sighed, he didn't think he'd ever get used to being called _Mr_. Lewis. It felt wrong somehow, after so many years of being an Inspector. "Uh, actually, I was wondering if I could use me phone lass. I need to call me girl."

Nurse Dexter smiled, "If you give me a number, I'll call for you."

Robbie shook his head, "I'd rather do it me-self. Don't want to scare her. - Maybe a trip outside. - And uh, I could do with the toilet?"

The nurse stared at him for a few seconds before nodding, "I can get you a bottle." she offered.

Robbie shook his head, "I'd rather try the loo, thanks lass. Sooner I can prove I'm _compos_ - _mentis_ , the sooner the doctor will let me out of here, right?"

Nurse Dexter smiled, eyes gleaming with amusement, "Not a fan of hospitals, Mr. Lewis?"

He shook his head, "Spent too much time in them as a copper." he replied, smiling.

"I'll see what I can do." she walked closer to fuss with the blankets, but Robbie wrapped his fingers tightly into them, not looking at the lass.

"Thank you, Nurse. - I'm uh…"

Nurse Dexter clearly understood his unspoken plea because she backed away, "I'll be back in a few minutes." she said, as if in warning, and Robbie felt his cheeks heat up as if he were a lad again.

When the door clicked shut, Robbie let his head fall back again, and closed his eyes, forcing his body to behave itself. He wasn't fourteen any longer, and he was well past his prime. - Or was he? His sex life with Laura had been surprisingly good, and now the idea of possibly having sex with James in the future, well…. Dammit, he was meant to be trying to calm his wayward erection.

Then again, maybe he shouldn't be all that surprised, hadn't both Rod Stewart and Des O'Conner had kids, and both were into their 70s. At least he didn't have to worry about having more kids at his age. - His eyes shot open and he stared up at the off-white ceiling tiles, brows furrowed. What if James wanted kids? Sure, he might not realize it now, but he was still young. What about in five years, ten even. What then? And Robbie wasn't getting any younger, they'd have maybe a couple of decades together before he met his maker, leaving James alone once more.

Robbie inhaled sharply, a lump forming in his throat. Was that fair to James?

Before he could form an answer in his own head, the door opened, and the nurse appeared with a wheelchair, "Bathroom, then you can call your daughter." she smiled, waiting for his agreement. When he gave it, she moved the chair over to the side of the bed and waited for him to throw the covers back, which took him a few seconds, then helped him out.

He winced in pain as his back and ribs were jar and the muscles pulled tight. His left foot was wrapped in plaster which made climbing out of bed even more difficult, but eventually he was in the chair, a blanket over his lap. "My phone?" Robbie asked, looking at the cabinet next to the bed.

"You didn't have a phone when you were brought in Mr. Lewis."

"Robbie, please. - I guess I lost it at the scene." he sighed, rubbing at his eyes, "Don't suppose I can use the phone at the desk?"

Nurse Dexter shook her head as she pushed him out of the room and down the corridor, "Afraid not. There's a payphone at the end of the corridor."

"If I don't have me phone, I probably don't have me wallet either." he sighed, slouching against the back of the chair.

There was a rustle of fabric behind him and a rattle of metal, and then a hand came over his shoulder. Turning his head, he stared at the small hand and the coins in the middle of it. His heart skipped with gratitude and he tilted his head back to smile up at her, wincing at the pain in his neck, "Thanks lass."

After dealing with his bladder, Nurse Dexter peering in the bowl, having insisted he use the toilet so he could check for blood, Robbie was pushed down the end of the corridor and set in front of the payphone.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" Nurse Dexter asked.

"Alright lass, thank you."

With a nod, the woman scurried off back the way they'd come, head tilted to look at the pager on her pocket. Alone, Robbie stared at the phone, brows furrowed. He wasn't particularly eager to make this call, Lyn had a propensity to worry about him. She'd only back off a few months ago, and that was because of Laura. Because he'd settled down with someone to look after him. Telling her that he and Laura had broken up was going to be hard. - Though not as hard as telling her why.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the receiver and dropped in the coins.

_(*-*)_

James's heartbeat became erratic as he stood staring, eyes wide with shock. His mind rebelled against what he was seeing, there was no way it was real. Robert Lewis, his ex-boss and the closest thing James had to a friend, the man he loved, was kissing another man with a youthful passion he'd never allowed himself to have.

But Robbie was straight? Wasn't Robbie straight? James took a quick intake of breath, his lungs burning at the suddenness of it. His head was spinning with confusion, and he staggered backwards, shaking his head in a desperate attempt to clear it.

Turning on his heels, he fled back out the door, unable to watch any longer. Out in the dull sunlight, James collapsed back against the grimy wall, and hung his head. It didn't make sense, none of it made any sense. Robbie had only ever been attracted to women, his wife, Laura, the handful of dates he'd had over the years, all woman.

And there was the way he'd reacted when he'd thought James might be gay, the discomfort and awkwardness, he hadn't said anything about _this_ then.

Because he was ashamed of it? Yes, of course that was the reason, he was ashamed of a past indiscretion.

"You didn't tell him either," Mrs. Lewis' voice said beside him, and James turned to acknowledge her. She was stood with her arms crossed over her chest, back against the fence and eyes fixed on him.

"That's different?"

"How?" she asked softly.

"Because, I wasn't sure how he'd react."

Mrs. Lewis tilted her head to the side, regarding him curiously, "And how did you react when he asked you, James? When he found the courage to voice the question, how did you react?"

James stared, then flinched back as the memory came back to him. The anger. The harshness of his tone.

 _"Are you gay?"_

 _"What does that mean?"_

 _"You know what that means?"_

 _"What, that there's boys and girls and a nice, neat straight line down the middle. And gay is if you like shoes and musicals and straight is if you read loaded and eat Yorkie bars."_

 _"No. No."_

 _"Have you got some finer definition, then, Sir?"_

 _"Loaded and Yorkie bars? How stupid do you think I am, man? I just…. Ah, it's none of my business. You're right. What do I know?"_

James inhaled so sharply he felt himself gag a little, swaying as a sudden bout of dizziness hit him. No wonder Robbie had never told him. He'd felt the exact same fear of rejection.

He turned his head towards the door, eyes burning with unshed tears. " _Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides_."

"What now?" Mrs. Lewis said, frowning.

James shook his head, "Never mind." he muttered, turning his attention to the back gate, his bare foot scraping against the dirt. Dropping his gaze to it, he was reminded that he was dressed only in a hospital gown, and shivered. The chill he suddenly felt, being down to sense memory rather than feeling actually cold. "Why you?" he asked softly, watching his toes dig into the earth, but leaving no sign of his presence.

Mrs. Lewis stepped around to join him against the wall, "Who else? I know Robbie better than anyone."

James exhaled a long regretful breath and closed his eyes, "Certainly better than me." he whispered, "I didn't know about this," he gestured his head back towards the kitchen door, "I've worked with him for seven years, I thought I knew him…"

"You knew him well enough to fall in love with him," she said with a sweet smile.

James scoffed, "Is it love? Maybe it's simply infatuation. - Maybe it was just a reaction to him giving a crap about me. Hero worship," he huffed, smirking at the older woman.

"Is that what you really think?" Mrs. Lewis asked, eyes narrowing at him.

James shrugged, "Love is like a child, that longs for everything it can come by."

"Do you always talk in quotes? I bet that drives Robbie mad."

James laughed, smiling. "On occasion."

"Love sought is good but given unsought is better."

James frowned at her, "Shakespeare."

"Two kids," Mrs. Lewis said by way of explanation. She paused, staring at the grimy brick wall, "You love him." she whispered finally, "It's real, I wouldn't be here if you didn't."

"What?"

Mrs. Lewis turned back to regard him, "If what you feel for Robbie weren't genuine, if it were just _'a reaction to him giving a crap'_ , I wouldn't be here with you, showing you this?" she waved a hand, "I would have left Robbie in his nice, comfortable and safe relationship with Laura Hobson."

James's head snapped around to stare wide eyed at the woman, "You…?" he trailed off, staring down at his hand. He could really do with a cigarette right now.

"Smoking is bad for you." Mrs. Lewis smirked, has she handed him one.

James frowned down at it.

"It's not real," Mrs. Lewis chuckled.

James took the cigarette, not really caring if it was real or not. He lifted it to his lips and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the smoke and tar, the not real nicotine seeping into his system. He closed his eyes and savored it, exhaling the smoke on a long sigh.

"I... I want to thank you by the way," Mrs. Lewis said quietly.

"For?" James said around the butt of his cigarette.

"Monkford."

James froze, swallowing the smoke and exhaling before turning to stare at her profile. "I… I was just doing my job."

"It helped give Robbie the closure he needed, he'd still be mourning if it weren't for you laying the whole thing to rest."

"It was honestly just luck, I mean…"

She reached out, squeezing his arm. "I know, but still…thank you."

James let out a shaky breath, pressing his lips into a thin line and nodded, "You're welcome." he whispered.

The pair started as laughter pulled their attention around to the door. Robbie and Rory came staggering out, faces flushed and eyes bright. Robbie was fixing his shirt while his friend pushed his messy hair back into some semblance of order. James and Mrs. Lewis watched them as they strolled towards the back gate, smiles on their faces. Before pulling it open, Robbie stopped his friend with a hand on his arm, the fingers closing around the bicep as he leant forward to press a brief kiss to the other teenager's lips.

James dropped his gaze, staring at his cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. It was ridiculous to feel jealous of Robbie's past, especially while sitting next to the man's late wife, but he couldn't help it. Human nature he supposed. It wasn't just jealousy though; it was also envy. Robbie had the youth he'd been denied, in a time when if found out, would have ended Robbie's career before it even started.

The sound of wood hitting wood and the click of a metal latch had James looking up to find the backyard abandoned, "What happed between them?" he asked, distractedly, "I mean, they obviously didn't last, but…"

Mrs. Lewis's features fell, and James felt his gut tightened, "I think that's a story for Robbie to tell, sweetheart." she smiled sadly, "Come on," Getting to her feet, she brushed at her bum with both hands to clear dirt from the pale blue skirt she was wearing. "We've got to get back."

James looked up at her hopefully, "Back?"

"Not quite yet," she shook her head, "Not like that, anyhow. You've got a little more to see first."

"What more could I possibly need to see," James sighed, dropping the cigarette into the dirt and moving to stamp it out before remembering he was bare foot, "You've made it clear that Robbie isn't the man I thought he was,"

Mrs. Lewis turned to stare at him, taking a step closer and looking into his eyes, "If you go back now, what will you do?"

James frowned, "Pardon?"

"Will you confess your feelings to Robbie and ride off into the sunset together?"

"Uh…" he flushed, "Well that all depends on…him, doesn't it?"

"Does it?"

"Of course," James insisted firmly.

"So, if he says he wants you, you'll go along with that, no arguments, no doubts. - No self-recrimination? Sure of yourself and your future together?"

James opened his mouth to reply in the affirmative, only for the words to die on his tongue. He dropped his gaze, frowning at the dirt once more, "I…."

Mrs. Lewis stepped forward, setting her hand on his arm once more, bowing her head to capture his gaze and hold it., "You're a cultured well-read man, love, you know how this story plays out, so how about you just go along with it, hey?"

James stared at her, chest heaving as his heart raced, He did know how this went, past, present…future. Another shiver went down his spine at the thought of what he'd see in his future. Nothing good obviously, or they wouldn't be here, but he was a far cry from Ebenezer Scrooge.

"Come on, sweetheart. Sooner there, sooner done."

He looked up to see her stepping into the house, holding his breath, James followed.

_(*-*)_

"I promise lass, I'm fine" Robbie insisted again, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Of course, Lyn wasn't going to listened to him, he knew that before he'd even picked up the phone. He'd been surprised to hear she was on her way. David already driving down the M6, just passing Banbry. They'd be there in little over an hour. - Robbie had sighed and accepted the fact that he was going to be stood face to face with his daughter when he told her he'd broken up with Laura, and why. "Alright, Lass, I'll see you soon." he muttered, "I love you too, Pet."

Hanging up the phone, Robbie slumped back into the wheelchair, resting his elbow on the armrest, burying his face in his palm. It wasn't going to be easy, Lyn had liked Laura, was always going on about how great she was for him. How Val would like her too. - He sincerely doubted she'd believe him when he told her that Val had been the one to convince him to end it, and to try to shack up with James instead, because quite frankly the longer he was awake, the harder it was for him to wrap his head around it.

There was part of him that wanted to panic, to argue that it had all been an illusion, that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life. Hell, there was no guarantee James was even going to want him. He hadn't seen any real proof that his feelings were returned, he'd just taken Val's word for it. The word of an illusion. He'd thrown away his relationship with Laura on the word of a fantasy. He didn't even believe in ghosts, what the hell had he been thinking?

"Inspector Lewis?"

Robbie lifted his head to meet the curious gaze of a young slim blond woman, "Yes?"

She held out her hand, smiling tightly at him, "Eleanor Hathaway."

Robbie straightened, "James's sister?" The young woman nodded, "How is he?" Robbie quickly added, chest tightening anxiously at the redness of the woman's eyes.

"He's holding in there." she said quietly, "The nurse said you were in the car with him?"

Robbie nodded, "Aye, I was driving?"

"What happened?" she asked shakily.

Dropping his gaze, Robbie tightened his lips into the thin line as guilt curled around his insides, "I…I got distracted," he confessed, voice wavering, "I didn't see the other car. I'm sorry."

There was a long heavy silence as Eleanor stared at the grey floor tiles, her fingers flexing around the strap of her handbag. Robbie watched her, she was enough like James that he scolded himself for not instantly realizing who she was.

"They keep telling me to talk to him," Eleanor said finally, voice quiet and trembling a little, "But…" she shook her head and looked up at him, eyes glistening, "We've never been close," she shrugged a shoulder, "He's always so…"

"Awkward." Robbie finished with a sad smile.

Eleanor huffed a wet laugh, nodding, "Yes. Keeps himself to himself." Looking away she stared down to the end of the corridor, "Would you like to see him?" she asked suddenly, turning back.

"Uh, I would aye, but the nurses…"

Eleanor dismissed his words with a drawn-out sigh, "He'd much rather hear your voice than mine." she stated confidently, "You mean a lot to him."

Robbie swallowed thickly, heart skipping a beat, "He…" he swallowed, taking a deep breath before trying again, "He means a lot to me too."

Eleanor stared at him for a long moment, and when her back straightened, he knew she'd read something in his face. Robbie held his breath, waiting for the fallout. Waiting for the disgust. James was twice his age after all, he doubted the lad's family would be particularly happy with him shacking up with a bloke old enough to be his dad, so he was surprised when Eleanor stepped around behind the wheelchair.

Robbie sucked in a pained breath when Eleanor pushed him into James's room and over to the bedside. The lad looked like death itself, paler that usual, small cuts tainting his handsome face. His head was wrapped in a thick bandage, and Robbie felt his stomach clench, "Head injury?" he asked, looking worriedly up at Eleanor.

"Nothing serious, thank god." she raised her hand to fiddle at a small gold cross around her neck, "A small fracture, and a deep gash across the back of his skull."

Robbie exhaled in a rush, offering up a silent prayer. He couldn't imagine James if he lost his sharp wit and smartass intellect. He stared across at him, curling his fingers into the armrest to stop from reaching for his hand. The beep of the heart monitor counting out each heartbeat in a slow but steady rhythm, filling the silence. The whoosh of the ventilator filling James's lungs, keeping him alive. "Come on, lad." Robbie whispered.

"I… I'm going to get a coffee," Eleanor announced suddenly, "Would you like one?"

Robbie looked up, surprised, "Uh, no thanks, Lass, I don't think I'm quite well enough for hospital coffee."

Eleanor smiled understandingly and nodded, "I'll be back soon." she paused to look at her brother for a second, before marching back out of the room.

Robbie watched her go, and the moment the door clicked he gave in and reached for James's hand, careful not to dislodge the IV. He squeezed gently at James's fingers, swallowing around the thick lump that had taken up residence in this throat. The lad's fingers were cold, so cold in fact that if not for the beep beep of the heart monitor he'd think James were dead.

"Come on, Lad, wake up." He croaked out, "I… I need you. I need to tell you somethings. Things I likely should have told you a long time ago. – Like how much, you mean to me." He panted, his heart racing. "It's not something I want to say to you while you're like this mind. Though I admit, it would be a hell of a lot easier, less chance of you cutting me off, or me losing my nerve."

Robbie dragged his thumb gently over the back of James's fingers. "You probably won't believe me when I tell you anyhow." He scoffed bitterly, "Seeing as I've been so dismissive of religion and all that nonsense, except…well, I think I might have been visited by a ghost, lad. Or I was hallucinating, either way, I saw my Val, beautiful as ever. She sat me down and gave me a right good talkin' to. She was always like that," he smiled softly, "pulling me up on my nonsense," he huffed, "kinda like you've been known to do, though she's a lot less subtle about it," he grinned, eyes flickering up from where he'd been watching his thumb move against James's hand, to stare at his sleeping face. "Anyhow, she told me I've been an idiot all this time. You see lad, I… Well, I haven't always been particularly honest with you, about me. Been lying by omission for most of me life, in fact. – The thing is, James, I'm not…well, I ain't as ' _straight_ ' as most people would assume." He exhaled a fast breath, closing his eyes for a moment, "I ain't gay," he insisted, firmly, "I like girls, I loved Val and was happy with her. Never expected to love anyone else, but…" he took another deep breath, licking at his suddenly parched lips and glanced over to the small table, sighing at the lack of a water jug, but then why would James need water, "Val wasn't my first love, and as it turns out, she ain't me last."

A double bleep of the heart monitor drew Robbie's attention, and his own heart skipped a beat, "You hear me lad?" he asked, leaning forward a little more, wincing from the pressure the movement put on his ribs, but he didn't move back. His gaze flickered between the monitor and the young man, "What I'm trying to say, lad...James, is...I need you to wake up, okay, so we could maybe see if...perhaps, you and I could try and be more..."

The door opened behind Robbie and he yanked his hand away from James as if burnt, looking back to meet Eleanor's apologetic gaze.

_(*-*)_

Stepping through the door James found himself back where he started, staring down at his own unconscious form, the steady beep of the heart monitor, and the motorized whir of the ventilator. He looked like crap, worse than when he'd left with Will. How long had he been gone? He wondered, hours? Days? Weeks?

It felt as if he'd been travelling from one life altering moment to another, but then time was relative, like everything else.

He turned at the sound of a door opening, and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw Robbie, confined to a wheelchair, albeit temporarily, being pushed by his sister.

He remained frozen to the spot, eyes fixed on the pair, as Robbie positioned himself next to the bed, as close as he could get, while Nell hovered on the other side, awkwardly fussing with her handbag and staring between his unconscious body and Robbie.

James held his breath and could almost feel his heartbeat thumping a fast constant rhythm in his chest and throat. Robbie broke through the strained uncomfortable silence with a worried inquiry about his condition, to which Nell had informed him that he had a fractured skull and a deep laceration. Which is better than James would have expected looking at his pale flesh and bandaged head. The sudden thought of being brain damaged and helpless hit him, and he sucked in a sharp breath, an icy chill shooting down his spine. He's seen what brain damage could do, what it was like having to rely on others to do everything for you, he didn't want that. He'd rather die.

A hand settled on his back, warm and reassuring, "You'll be fine, sweetheart." Mrs. Lewis said gently, and James felt the fear subside, seeping away from him.

"I… - I'm going to get coffee," Nell said, her face reddening suddenly, her eyes fixed on Robbie knowingly. "Would you like one?" she asked quietly as she reached the hospital room door and looked back at Robbie. He shook his head and James stared after his retreating sister.

He was still watching the door swing closed when he felt it. A tingle in his fingers, so light, just like when your arm goes numb and the blood finally starts moving again. Before the pins and needles strike. He stared down at it, curling and uncurling his fingers, rubbing them together, but the feeling remained.

"Come on, lad, wake up." Robbie's voice croaked, and James turned, his gaze instantly dropping to where Robbie's thicker fingers were wrapped around his longer ones. "I need to tell you somethings."

James's heart skipped at the announcement, and he couldn't stop himself from inching forward a little, desperate to hear what Robbie had to say.

He stood there listening, fist clenched at his side, as if he were holding Robbie's fingers too.

"…I might have been visited by a ghost, lad…" Robbie said with a cool huff of laughter, disbelieve still resonating in his tone.

James turned to look at Mrs. Lewis, who's attention was also fixed on Robbie. He took a step back, suddenly self-conscious that he was with the man's wife. The love of his life. Robbie gushed on about how beautiful his wife was, how she'd given him a talking to. How she'd told him it was time to be honest with himself. James's hand twitched as he felt the man's thumb brush against his knuckles.

It was awkward, standing there next to Mrs. Lewis while the man they both loved rambled on about not being straight, about his love for his wife. How happy he'd been with her and had never expected to love anyone else.

"Val wasn't my first love," Robbie said quietly, his voice breaking a little on the words, a thick vail of guilt wrapped around them.

James looked over at Mrs. Lewis and felt his gut clench at the pain that flickered across her features, even as she was smiling at her husband.

"And as it turns out, she ain't me last."

His heart did a double skip as his head shot around to stare at the older man. His mind rebelling against the words and the hope in his chest, as it was want to do, because it was all still too incredible to believe that this man, the man he'd loved for seven years. The man he'd do anything for, might return his feelings

"You hear me lad?" Robbie repeated, squeezing James's fingers, "what I'm trying to say, lad…James, is…I need you to wake up, okay, so we could maybe see if…" James smiled at Robbie stuttered speech. He'd known how awkward Robbie could be when talking about his feelings and had never failed to find it endearing and adorable. Not that he'd tell the man that, not unless he wanted a dressing down.

"…perhaps, you and I could try and be more…"

James startled right along with Robbie when the door opened, and Nell stepped back into the room. It felt like when he was a teenager and she'd burst into his bedroom without knocking and had almost caught him reading a dirty magazine with his hand down his pants. This was a private moment, a personal thing between him and Robbie, and Mrs. Lewis, and she was invading it. He gritted his teeth and held back the loud curse he wanted to throw at his big sister. There was no point anyway, she couldn't hear him.

Instead he watched her stroll around the bed and smile awkwardly down at him. That's when he realized the tingling in his fingers had stopped and glanced at Robbie's hand, finding that the man had let go, and was now sat with his hands folded in his lap as he smiled over at Nell.

"Dammit Nell," James heard himself grown, frustrated, unable to hold it in any longer. "You're timing has always been bloody awful."

"I should get back to me room," Robbie said awkwardly, "My daughter should be here soon."

Nell smiled, "Of course." She stepped around the bed once more and gripped the back of Robbie's wheelchair. "I've spoken to the nurses and made it clear that you're practically family and should be allowed in to see him."

James inhaled deeply, a warm blanket of gratitude settling over his heart, "Thank you Nell." he whispered beside her, his hand unconsciously reaching out to rest on her shoulder. He felt her shiver, head turning, eyes locking with his. James took another sharp breath and opened his mouth to say something else, only for her to turn away from him, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Thank you, Lass," Robbie said, lips curved into a sad but grateful smile, "I appreciate that." He then turned back to stare at James again, and muttered, "I'll see you later James," he reached out this time, ignoring the woman behind him and gave James's wrist a gentle squeeze, before Nell pulled the wheelchair away.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Chapter Title taken from"There is none so blind as the one who does not want to see." ― Paulo Coelho, Adultery**

* * *

 **There is None So Blind**

James followed after Robbie without a moment's hesitation, not even waiting for Mrs. Lewis. Though she was right there with him when he glanced briefly to his left.

"So it's just you then lass?" Robbie asked in front of him, and James felt his insides twist, hurrying forward to position himself next to his sister.

"Not exactly," Nell replied unhappily, "Our mother died 10 years ago, Dad's still alive."

Robbie's head twisted around, "I'm sorry lass, I… I had no idea."

Nell shrugged, "I'm not surprised, James doesn't like to talk about mum. They were close once, when he was young. When we lived…" she trailed off, staring down at her feet as she continued to walk.

James felt his insides twist and tear as he recalled the memory of his parents in the kitchen, what his mum had said about Nell and Craevcore. He reached out, knowing full well that he couldn't actually touch his sister, and maybe that was why he was doing it. They weren't a touchy feely family, but James made a promise to himself, he'd give her a proper hug when he woke up. "I'm sorry, Nell." he whispered, his hand passing through her shoulder.

Nell cleared her throat and shivered, "Right up until his teens, and then…I don't know, they changed. Mum became…odd around him, and so James became even more odd. It was as if they were trying to outdo each other."

"He's still odd," Robbie smiled.

"Yes, but…you like him anyway,"

James gave his sister a knowing look and shook his head, she was about as subtle as a sledgehammer and he couldn't help but laugh.

Robbie tilted his head up again, meeting her gaze, "Aye, - I do." he whispered, "Is…" he coughed, shifting in the wheelchair to get a better look at Nell, and she drew to a halt in the middle of the corridor, "Is that a problem?" he finished.

Nell met his gaze, "I have to admit, it's a little weird. With your ages."

Robbie dropped his gaze, "I know," he muttered mournfully.

"But…well, to be honest," she stepped around so he wouldn't have to twist his body to look at her, "James isn't a sharer," Robbie scoffed, nodding with a tight lopsided smile, "He never tells me anything, about anyone. I know he's dated, but we've never met them, he barely gives us a name. The only person he talks about, is you." She smiled, "And I mean, he _talks_."

James groaned, rubbing at his eyes, and glancing pleadingly to Mrs. Lewis, who was stood a few feet away, watching in silence. "Can you stop her before she…"

"Before she what?" Mrs. Lewis smiled, "Tells him the truth."

"And he has this look on his face when he does it, this soppy, dopey look that kind of makes me want to smile and throw up all at once," Nell laughed, "I never thought I'd see that look on him, not ever."

Robbie blushed, dropping his head and smiling down at his lap.

"The closest I ever saw him get to it was Will, his friend from grammar school, but that hadn't lasted long, and he never spoke about him the way he talks about you. - My husband, Thomas, he said he was convinced my brother was in love the moment he first said your name, and he'd only been working with you six months."

James let out a loud groan and turned away from the seen, marching over to the wall and thumping his head against it, wishing he could feel it. God he was going to kill her. There was laughter behind him, and then a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry sweetheart, it's not like Robbie doesn't already know."

"That's not the point," James grumbled into the plaster, his eyes closed as he prayed for deliverance.

Mrs. Lewis sighed, "The hell of siblings," she stated wisely, "the scourge of god,"

James huffed out a laugh, "You have siblings?"

"An older brother," she sighed, "And I have two children, so I know what siblings can be like."

Twisting his head, James looked at the woman, her face practically glowing in the overhead lights. - Or perhaps it wasn't the lights.

"Six months?" Robbie gasped, pulling James attention back to them.

"That's just what my husband said, I think it was at least a year."

Robbie inhaled deeply, "I… I can't believe…" he shook his head, lifting his hand to rub at his ear lope, "And there I thought I was…" he stared off into the middle distance, and James worried at the inside of his lip, uncertain just what was going through the man's mind. Then Robbie looked at his hand, smiling and James's heart skipped at a memory shot through his mind.

James huffed out a laugh, remembering the confused look on Robbie's face as the headmaster has spouted on about how 'their' child would be welcome at the school. James hadn't been able to stop himself, he'd taken the opportunity to give into temptation. Just a small thing, reaching over to take Robbie's hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers against the man's palm.

He'd expected to get a bollocking for it afterwards, but Robbie hadn't brought it up. In hindsight, James remembered the way Robbie had spent the interview with the headmaster flexing his fingers against his leg, and it made his heart skip a beat. He stared at Robbie in his wheelchair, stroking at the fingers of his left hand, clearly remembering the same moment. A soft smile pulling at his lips.

"I missed so much," Robbie said quietly.

Nell touched his shoulder, retaking her place behind him. "The way James tells it, you weren't ready."

Robbie shook his head, "No, lass, I wasn't. - Still clinging to the past," he muttered, as Nell began walking again, "And by the time I was, I'd come to the conclusion that James wasn't….like me." He sighed, dropping his head into his palm and squeezing the bridge of his nose, "Some detective I am."

"My nan always said no man sees the nose on his face, until someone punches them on it."

James shook his head at the memory of his father's mother.

Robbie laughed, nodding. "Smart woman your gran."

"My dad would argue,"

"Dad?"

James looked up from where he'd been watching Robbie to see a familiar face. Like with Mrs. Lewis, he'd never actually met Robbie's daughter. Too scared to in all honesty. What if she didn't like him? Or he didn't like her? Which was highly doubtful. What if she saw his feelings for her dad and disapproved? So, when she'd come to Oxford James had always been too busy with family or work, or a gig with the band, to meet her. He'd known it hurt Robbie, but self-preservation had to take priority. He'd seen pictures though, so many pictures. Robbie was always showing off his kids and grandson.

"Hey, Pet." Robbie grinned, obviously happy to see his daughter, despite the awful circumstances.

James caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Val brushing hurriedly past him to get to her daughter.

"What are you doing up, dad, you should be resting?" Her gaze shot past Robbie to Nell, accusingly and James felt himself bristle in defense.

"Lyn, love, this is Eleanor, James's sister." Robbie informed her firmly, "She was kind enough to take me to see him."

Lyn's face fell, going a little red, "Oh, I… - I'm sorry. How is he?"

Eleanor shook her head, "He's holding in there."

"Eleanor, my daughter Lyn." Robbie introduced properly.

Nell smiled, holding out her and, forcing Lyn to shift her son in her arms before stepping forward and taking the hand, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Yes, you too." Lyn replied, "Thank you for taking care of my dad."

Nell shrugged off the gratitude, "It's a pleasure, I was glad to finally get to meet the infamous Robbie Lewis," she smiled brightly down at Robbie, who flushed scarlet and cleared his throat.

"It was a pleasure to meet you too, Lass. Maybe we can talk more later."

Nell took the hint and nodded, "I'd like that. - Nice to meet you Lyn," she said, before turning away.

James didn't fail to notice the gleam in her eyes or the curve of her smile, and he knew exactly what was going through her head. If he and Robbie did take their friendship to the next level, then Lyn would become…

"Come on dad." Lyn said, stepping in behind the wheelchair, "She held out her son to her husband, who'd just come rushing through a set of double doors, breathless and red.

"Hello David," Robbie greeted as his son-in-law drew to a stop in front of him.

"Hey, Robbie, how you feeling?" he reached for his son and set him on his hip.

"Strange as it might sound, Lad, I'm feeling pretty fantastic."

Lyn frowned down at him, and David chuckled, "Whatever drugs they have you on then, Robbie, I could do with some."

Robbie laughed, "No drugs, David, just…happy to still be alive."

Lyn made a strangled noise and pushed, wheeling her father back down the corridor to his room. James followed along behind, while Val walked beside David, cooing over her grandson, who if James didn't know better could actually see his dead grandmother.

He felt suddenly like an intruder, watching them from a distance and imagining how different life would have been if Valerie Lewis hadn't died. Would he and Robbie have even met? They vanished into the room but James hung back, unable to cross the threshold. He took a step away from the door, deciding to give the family some privacy. He looked up and down the corridor and considered returning to his own room to hover by his bedside and stare at his comatose body, and watch his sister sit there with tears in her eyes. Had she told their father he was in hospital? He suddenly wondered. Would his dad even know who he was if she did? He'd been getting worse over the last few months. So much so, that Nell had been talking about a home. It didn't sit right with James, shuffling his dad off for strangers to take care of, but as Nell had pointed out, he needed specialist care. He needed a place where he could be watched and protected. It hurt, of course it did, but it was for the best.

Eventually Nell had convinced him it would be for the best, and James had insisted on helping pay for it, meaning staying with the force. A detective inspector didn't get paid a lot, but they certainly got paid more than a graduate student, and so he'd sat his Osprey exams, gotten his promotion, and was all set to take over Robbie's old job when… bam, coma.

"James?"

He looked up from where he'd been standing staring at his feet and inhaled sharply at the sight of his father, sat in the large green chair in Nell's house, staring directly at him.

"Where have you been?"

James took a cautious step forward, "You can see me?"

Philip smiled at him, "Of course I can see you," he huffed, shaking his head, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working? And why are you wearing a hospital gown?"

James swallowed thickly, "I had a bit of an accident." he said carefully, crouching down in front of his father.

Philip lent forward, panic in his gaze, "Are you okay? Does your mother know?"

James took a breath, forcing back the pain and regret, "Mum's… - Yeah, Dad, she knows. I'm fine, I just hate hospital's you know that, so I escaped." he laughed lightly.

Philip shook his head, chuckling, "Oh, I remember. It took us an hour to find you when you went in for your tonsils." James laughed. "You should have put on some clothes though, son, you'll catch your death walking around like that, and you know how your mum worries." Philip scolded, sighing.

"I was in a rush," James said apologetically. "What are you reading?" he asked, tilting his head to read the cover.

"That book you gave me last week,"

"Keats?" James muttered, "I…" it had been one of the first books he'd ever given his father, in his desperate attempt to forge some kind of connection with him. "What do you think?"

"It reads well enough." Philip nodded, looking between his son and the pages, "A little too…flowery for my liking, but I like some of them."

James nodded, "Yeah?"

He settled himself down on the floor at his father's feet, like a little boy being read a story, and listened intensely to his father's critique of Keats works, which led to other writers. James allowed himself to become lost in the conversation, forgetting where he was, what he was. Together they laughed and argued, and it was perfect.

_(*-*)_

Once Robbie was back in his room, and in bed with the help of his daughter, he watched as Lyn fussed around, hurrying in and out of the room like a whirl wind. When she vanished a few seconds after 'tucking' him in, he figured she'd gone to hunt down the nurses and doctors to get answers. Meanwhile he sat in bed, David in a chair beside him, and baby Matthew on Robbie's lap, jabbering on at speed and making Robbie laugh.

As he looked at his grandson he remembered Val and a lump rose up in his throat. There had always been a sense of sadness about seeing the boy, if only because each time he did, he was reminded that Val wasn't there to experience it with him. It had been like a dark shadow hovering over him for two years. - Until now.

The meeting with Val, real or not, had given him a sense of hope. A weight lifting from his heart, allowing him to finally enjoy his grandson fully. The idea that Val was there, watching over them, stepping in if need be, was...freeing in a way he'd never expected to feel again.

As Matthew played with his toy and babbled at empty air, Robbie turned to regard his son-in-law, "How's work been for you?"

David nodded, smiling brightly, "It's been good, we've been pretty busy. - How's retirement suiting you?"

Robbie sighed, "Bored out of my mind."

"I suppose that's understandable. It can't be easy to just walk away from the kind of stuff you were doing? Chasing down murderers and such, to fixing kitchen cabinets."

"Aye," Robbie laughed quietly, shaking his head, "I can't deny that I miss it." He turned to glance at the door, sighing.

"And of course, you miss your sergeant?" David said with a little too much meaning in his tone.

Robbie turned back to him sharply, attempting to look innocent. "Of course," he said, suddenly breathless, "We worked together for seven years."

There was a look on David's face that made him squirm beneath the covers. "How's Laura?" he asked after few silent seconds.

Robbie swallowed, clearing his throat. He was saved from answering thankfully as Lyn marched back into the room with a smile on her face.

"Well the doctor said you're doing surprisingly well, considering. They want to keep you in a few more days for observation, because of the concussion and the fractured ribs." She made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed, her shoulders finally relaxing and she exhaled a long breath, reaching out to stroke her fingers through her son's blond hair. "I'm surprised Laura's not here? Is she working?" there was an indignant tone to her voice that sent a spark of guilt through Robbie.

"No Pet," he shook his head, "she left a little while ago."

Lyn's eyes widened, then her brows drew tight together and lowered, "She left?" she said sharply, "What do you mean she left?" something seemed to occur to her and her features softened, "Oh, she went to get your stuff, a change of clothes. Maybe catch a few hours," there was a breathy laugh as she glanced over at David then back to Robbie, "She's probably been here all night."

There was a very loud, insistent part of Robbie that wanted to leave it at that. Let her believe that was how it was. Wait until he was absolutely _sure_ about everything before burdening Lyn with the truth, but that would only make things worse in the long run. He knew his daughter, she'd see him not telling her straight away as some kind of slight, a lack of trust. "Not exactly, Pet."

The frown was back on her face, and she was staring at him expectantly.

Robbie looked almost pleadingly to David, who clearly suspected the truth. "Do you want me to give you guys a moment," he was already getting up from his chair, "I'll take Matt down to the canteen."

"That's not necessary, Lad." Robbie said, smiling gratefully at his son-in-law, "I think...we might need a level head around. - Besides, you're family, you should probably hear this to. Though I've got a feeling, lad, it's not gonna come as news to you."

David huffed out a laugh, looking to a confused and increasingly concerned Lyn, before lifting Matthew out of the firing line and setting him to play on the floor, before retaking his chair. He shuffled back into the brown faux leather, as if trying to melt into it and vanish. Robbie wanted to laugh but his daughter's practically frantic glare had him focusing on her. At least she was already sitting down.

"Dad?" she pressed impatiently.

He took a deep breath and braced himself for the impact, "The thing is Lyn, love, me and Laura, we're... - We've broken up."

Lyn's eyes widened once more, "What, when? She didn't say anything when she called this morning?"

"A few hours ago, when I woke up."

The room fell silent as Lyn stared at her father thoughtfully. When she finally spoke, her tone was cautious, and a little fearful, "Why?"

Robbie sighed, glancing briefly at an uncomfortable looking David, before biting his lip and lifting his gaze to his daughter, "Because it wasn't what I wanted, Pet."

Lyn looked even more confused than before, "But... Dad, you seemed perfectly happy two months ago when you came up to visit. What's changed? Did something happen?"

Robbie nodded, "Aye, lass." he sighed, "I came to my senses."

"What? Dad you're not making any sense." She looked between her husband and father, "What's going on."

"Alright lass, to put it simply..." Robbie took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, "I'm in love with someone else, have been for a long while. Years, and this accident as made me realize that I want to try and make that relationship happen."

"Someone else?" Lyn gaped, "But you've never mentioned anyone else but… Oh my god, dad, are you in love with your boss? I thought you said she was married?"

David made an undignified snort from his chair and Lyn shot him a hard glare, that he simply shook his head at, and turned to stare out the window.

"Jean Innocent?" Robbie gasped, not intending to sound quite as disgusted as it came out, "No. Yes she's married, happily so. Why would you think…?"

"Other than Laura, she's the only woman you talk about." Lyn shrugged, "And you said you've been in love with this person for years, so I'd assume you'd have brought them up at some point."

"He does," David said from the chair, not even looking at them, "Constantly and in great detail."

Robbie turned to stare at his son-in-law, scandalized, "I'm not that bad." He argued, though he knew it was a lie. He knew he talked about James almost as much as James apparently talked about him.

David scoffed, turning his head to smirk at Robbie, then he glanced at Lyn who stared at him with a look of betrayal, "Sorry, love, but he's been pretty bloody obvious."

"Obvious?" Lyn huffed, "The only other person he talks about a lot is James," she said it with a dry laugh, as if the very idea was just too bloody ridiculous for words.

Robbie sobered, biting at his lower lip and shooting David a worried look, that the man seemed to share. Lyn shot to her feet, head snapping back and forth between the two men, "No, this is a joke, right?"

With a deep exhale, Robbie rubbed at his earlobe, "It's no joke, Lyn."

"But…you're not gay!" She snapped.

Robbie looked at her, "No, I'm not."

"So…"

"Bisexuality is a thing, Lyn, love. You know that." David said, his tone sharper than Robbie had ever heard it before.

Lyn looked to her husband, lips pressed into a thin line, "I know but he's…"

"I'm what?" Robbie pressed, face growing red with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, "Old?" Lyn looked at him, and he knew that was exactly what she was thinking. "Putting all my cards on the table, Lyn, James isn't the first man I've been attracted to, or loved."

Her eyes widened in horror and her face bleached, "What?"

Taking a calming breath, Robbie licked nervously at his lips, "Sit down love and let me explain." She didn't, instead choosing to pace the floor, "First of all love, I want you to know, I loved your mum with all my heart, and if she hadn't…been taken from us, I'd have spent the rest of my life loving her."

"Until you met James apparently." Lyn scoffed, bitterly.

"Lyn." David sighed, "That's not fair." But she ignored him, continuing to move around the room at an angry pace.

"No, it's not." Robbie scolded in agreement, his frustration turning slowly to anger.

"Isn't it?" she pressed, turning hard distant eyes on him.

"No," he replied angrily, "If your mum had still been alive, I'd have likely never met James," she looked at him doubtful. "I'd have retired years ago, just as she wanted me to, and have moved to Manchester to be close to you. – And even if that didn't happen, my relationship with James would have been entirely different had your mum been around. I loved your mum and a no one would have come between us."

"You fancy men, you might have gotten bored of mum! How do I know you weren't sneaking around behind her back with some other bloke! It happens all the time, you hear about men having secret lives, especially gay ones."

"Lyn, keep your voice down. Remember where you are?" David said calmly, "I'm sure your dad doesn't want the whole damn ward knowing his business."

Lyn gritted her teeth, breathing heavily through her nose. David got out of the chair and reached down to lift a suddenly distressed Matthew off the floor and setting him on his lap. Lyn looked at her son and then at her husband, "Maybe you should take him for a walk."

David looked like he was going to argue, his gaze flickering cautiously to Robbie before getting up with the boy in his arms, once Robbie had nodded in agreement.

The moment the door swung closed, Robbie took a breath and closed his eyes, resting his head back against the pillow and pressing his fingers into the sockets. He'd known this wasn't going to be easy, but he hadn't expected a fight, just a lot of shocked and confused looks. He heard the squeak of faux leather as Lyn took the seat David had abandoned.

Lowering his hand, Robbie turned his head to see Lyn staring out of the window, he couldn't see her face, but he knew she wasn't going to be smiling. "I know this is hard for you, lass." He said softly, reigning in his anger, "It can't be easy discovering I'm not the man you thought I was."

Lyn scoffed, "Understatement."

Robbie flinched, "I promise love, this doesn't change the way I felt about your mum, or you kids."

"Who was he?" Lyn asked in a rough voice, still not looking at her father.

"Who?"

"This other man. Before James."

Robbie swallowed hard, turning to stare up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. He had to tell her, had to make her understand, no matter how it hurt. "His name was Rory. Rory McGuinness, he was my best mate in school."

"I thought your best friend at school was called Steve." Lyn turned her head to glare at him.

"He was," Robbie smile, twisting to meet his daughter's blue eyes, "You can have more than one best friend, love. Especially when you're a teenager." They continue to stare at one another for a few seconds before Lyn turned away and Robbie went back to examining the ceiling. "Steven was the lad I played football with, talked about girls to. Kicked around with. Rory…" his throat tightened, "Rory was the one I told my dreams to. The one I shared everything with," he whispered, "My first kiss was Rory, my first… _everything_..."

"What happened?" Lyn asked, tone quiet and unsteady.

"It was the 60s in Newcastle," he said bitterly, "It was only made legal in 67, but even then it was for men over 21. It would be almost a decade before the age of consent was reduced to 18, and it wasn't until 2001 that it was reduced to 16." He stated, as if telling a suspect of his rights, "And even when it was legal, it wasn't accepted, not for a very long while," his throat tightened, "I was 15 when we started… well, I'd guess now you'd call it dating. Sneaking around, trying not to get caught. Finding bombed out…"

"I… I don't want the details, dad."

"Sorry. – When the law passed in 67, there were a lot of people who weren't happy. There was a spate of attacks." He cleared his throat, blinking back tears, "We were so careful," Robbie whispered, shaking his head, "but… We'd been seen, sneaking out of a bombed out house. One of the local lads, Ricky Stephenson." He trailed off as the memory came back to him, turning his face away from the ceiling to stared at the wall through tear filled eyes, "They found his body the next morning outside the local pub." He croaked, "he'd been kicked to death, his face so badly beaten that he'd been barely recognizable."

"Oh my god, Dad." Lyn gasped, reaching to wrap her fingers around his hand.

He turned to face her, eyes red and filled with tears, "He had a piece of board around his neck with the word Queer painted in big black letters, so of course the please didn't care, one less Nancy in the world as far as they were concerned,"

Lyn exhaled, "I'm sorry, Dad."

"I brought him in though, him and his mates. One of the first cases I closed as a copper. I made bloody sure those bastards paid."

"If they saw you, why didn't they come after you?" Lyn asked carefully, her voice almost as wrecked as Robbie's.

Robbie scoffed, "I asked him that, alone. He said it was out of respect for me dad and your uncle Charlie, and then when I started dating Diana, he figured I'd been scared straight. – And honestly," he sighed, "I'd thought so too." At Lyn's frown he clarified, "After Rory, I'd never been with another bloke, I don't even remember looking at one. Then I moved south to become a copper and met your mum, and…" he shrugged, "That was it for me, or so I thought."

Lyn stared at him, unconvinced, "You're telling me you've never been with another bloke, ever, since Rory…. Or mum?"

Robbie dropped his gaze, face beginning to heat up, "Well, there may have been a couple of drunken fumbles here and there, but never while I was married, and not since I returned to Oxford."

Lyn let out a burst of laughter, shaking her head. "You're not the man I thought you were Dad," she said, but the bitterness and anger was gone, replace with amusement and warmth.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm still making my way through Inspector Morse, so if I'm wrong about Val's brother, please forgive me. That said, with the amount of inconsistencies between Morse, Lewis and Endeavor, I could both be wrong and right at the same time. I don't' know if Lyn's husband was ever named, but I've seen many fics where he's referred to as David, so I'm going to go with that. I'm also aware Nell is completely out of character in this, but as it takes place prior to season 8, I think I can be excused.**

 **You know the hardest thing about writing this story, is that James is all smart and well-read while I am not and have no idea about poetry or philosophy and so I'm sure I'm bullsing it up spectacularly. Damn fictional geniuses are the bane of fanfic.**

 **Due to unforeseen circumstances, my personal computer is no longer accessible, this means two things. 1) the space between posts may be longer than usual, as I'm having to borrow a relative's computer to type of the chapters, and 2) the spell check isn't as good as on my computer, so there may before more grammar/spelling mistakes than usual. Please bear with me and if you see any glaring mistakes, please feel free to tell me so I can fix them. Thank you.**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Chapter title by Friedrich Nietzsche**

* * *

 **Invisible Threads Are the Strongest Ties**

 _"When I have fears that I may cease to be_

 _Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,_

 _Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,_

 _Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;_

 _When I behold, upon the night's starred face,_

 _Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,_

 _And think that I may never live to trace_

 _Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;_

 _And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,_

 _That I shall never look upon thee more,_

 _Never have relish in the faery power_

 _Of unreflecting love_ _—_ _then on the shore_

 _Of the wide world I stand alone, and think_

 _Till love and fame to nothingness do sink."_

James smiled softly as the last word died on his tongue, his father's blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. he felt his chest ache at all the lost chances, the time he'd missed out on.

"That was lovely, Jamie." Philip said gently.

"I didn't write it," James laughed, and Philip joined in shaking his head, eyes filled with mirth.

The older man looked down at the book, still open in his lap, he gave a quiet sniffle and then closed the thing, running his palm over the cover then turned to look at his son, "You've cut your hair," he observed, nodding his approval. "Though I wouldn't let your mother see it, you know she hates it short like that."

James ran his fingers over the buzz cut. He opened his mouth to remind his father that his mother was dead, only for his father to cut through his response with a question, one he'd never asked before.

"How's work?"

"Uh, fine." James replied, brows pulled together in confusion. "I uh...actually, I got a promotion. I'm a Detective Inspector now." He'd told his father already, when he'd first been offered the job by Innocent, though his father's reaction hadn't been all that animated, now however he turned to look at James, eyes gleaming with pride.

"Congratulations." he grinned, reaching out to pat James's shoulder, surprising the younger man when his hand didn't pass right through him.

James stared at the hand, eyes wide with shock. "Thanks." he whispered, looking up to stare at his father, heart suddenly racing. The only ones who'd been able to touch him before was Mrs. Lewis and William. "Dad, are you feeling alright?"

Philip frowned, pulling his hand away, "Fine, why?"

James shook his head, "Just checking."

Philip stared at him with a strange distance in his eyes, as if the world was fading away around him, and James hurried to grab hold of the last threads before his father disappeared on him again, or more accurately, before he disappeared on his father. "Dad?"

The older man shook his head and focused back on James. "Detective Inspector, well that's very impressive."

James exhaled a relieved sigh, "Thank you." he smiled brightly.

"Your mother had her reservations you know, about you dropping out of the priesthood and becoming a policeman." He shook his head, "But I always knew the church was no place for you, she just wanted to keep you locked away for your own safety." He muttered, "She was so scared you'd end up like him."

"Him?" James frowned.

"Mortmagine." Philip said, turning to meet his son's gaze, "Thought you'd start..." he shook his head, "I told her you weren't like that, too good a heart to do something so evil."

James swallowed thickly, "I... - Dad, why didn't you say something? About Mortmagine?"

Philip met his gaze, eyes hard and distant, "And put Nell through more pain," he shook his head, "I'd already let her down once." he stared off into the middle distance, a tear rolling down his cheek, "My baby girl," he whispered, "I should have protected her."

James reached out, pressing his hand on top of his father's, surprised when he felt the warmth of it against his palm. "It's alright now, Dad. He's in prison."

Philip turned, meeting his eyes, "You?"

James dropped his gaze, "It was Inspector Lewis actually, he figured it out. I let him down," he whispered, dropping his gaze, "I was so scared, I was running away from how I felt and it almost got him killed."

"Your mother told me about the magazine, I told her you were probably just confused. That it didn't mean anything."

James took a deep breath, meeting his father's amused gaze. He knew it was the wrong time and place, but he might not get the chance again. He might not have the courage, or his father might not... He swallowed thickly and said, "It wasn't a phase Dad,"

Philip looked down at him, brows knitted together. "What?"

"The magazine, it wasn't... It did mean something." he confessed, heart racing, blood pounding against his eardrums. "I - I like girls, I do..."

Philip nodded, smiling, "Of course you do son."

"But I like boys to." James said, spine straight and eyes sorrowful but challenging, "In fact, I've met someone, I'm…in love with someone, a man." His father just stared at him, eyes wide and confused, "He's older than me but I think he might feel the same way, and if I make it back," he inhaled sharply, a sudden fear curling around his heart, what if he didn't make it back? What if this was all some insane dream and none of it was actually real? What if Robbie hadn't meant what he'd said? Maybe it wasn't Robbie at all. His heart began to beat erratically, faster and faster, a burning in his chest.

He lifted his hand in front of his face and watched it tremble, his vision growing cloudy around the edges. Gasping in a breath he looked after his father who seemed oblivious, watching him back with a soft smile.

James tried to focus on his father, on his face and his voice. He gulped down great lungsful of oxygen, even as his head began to spin.

"Detective Inspector, uh?" Philip said, capturing James attention. Had he said Robbie was his boss? "I met a detective once, name of...what was it now..." Philip hummed thoughtfully down at his hands, "Mouse." he shook his head, "No, that's not right... Mount..."

"Morse?" James panted, his brows knitted tight together.

Philip looked up suddenly, "Yes, Morse, though he wasn't an inspector like you, he was a sergeant. Saved Julia and Milo's lives. Brave man."

James breathed, shaking his head to clear it, but the white was growing closer, suffocating him inch by inch. "Morse." He muttered to himself. His father had known Morse, it seemed unbelievable and yet… He struggled to his feet swaying and rubbing the palm of his hand over the centre of his chest, "W-we are like i-islands…" he panted, pacing as the room began to spin around him, the white dimming to grey, then to black, "…in the s-sea, s-separate on the s-surface but con-nect-ed in the d-eep."

The world went black around him, and he was falling.

_(*-*)_

As Robbie watched Lyn head off in search of her husband and son, he exhaled a relieved sigh. A little bit more of the weight he'd been carrying for years was gone, all that was left was James. Talking to James. Convincing James.

He hadn't been all that surprised by Lyn's reaction, it was obviously going to be hard for her, especially in regards to Val. It was bound to be hard hearing he was in love again, and with a man. It was obviously going to bring up questions and doubts about his marriage to her mum, but hopefully he'd laid those fears to rest. It wasn't all going to be fine and dandy straight away, it was going to take time for her to adjust, but he hoped he'd made her understand that Val hadn't been a convenience. She wasn't his cover story; she was the love of his life. - Or at least half his life.

He couldn't quite imagine how hard it was for his daughter, it was difficult enough to wrap your head around your parents having love lives before and after marriage, without the added complication of sexuality. So he didn't particually blame her for reacting the way she had.

There was also the age gap to consider, James was only a year older than Lyn, which undoubtedly was going to be hard for both his children to wrap their heads around. – If Mark ever graced him with so much as a phone call, let alone a visit.

With that, Robbie's thoughts drifted to his son, and their fractured relationship. Robbie hadn't asked if Lyn had contacted Mark about the accident, because if he were honest, he feared the answer. Either she did, and Mark didn't care, or she hadn't because she knew Mark wouldn't want to know.

As much as he hated to admit it, he'd given up hoping for a reconciliation with his son, especially after Val's death. Mark had never really forgiven him for not being around enough when he was growing up. For being at Morse's beck and call all hours of the day and night, at least as far as he could see it. For missing sports days because he was in Italy, family holidays because he was in Australia. For crying off of school plays and parents evenings, school fates and award evenings. As far as Mark was concerned, Robbie had been the worst father in the world. While Lyn had accepted the sacrifices with only a little rebellion, Mark had thrown around angry words and given him the cold shoulder. One that only got colder with time.

He could just imagine how the revelation would go down with his still angry son. The biggest stumbling block wouldn't be his sexuality or even the age, but rather that James had been his sergeant. He'd always suspected that Mark thought there was more going on between him and Morse than there was, and that's where a lot of the resentment came from. There wasn't of course. He cared for Morse, loved him even, but not in the way he loved Rory, Val and James, but rather in the way he loved his dad. Morse had been a second father to him in many ways.

Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the pain that spread through his chest, as it always did at the thought of his son. All the anger and bitterness, all the lost time they'd never get back.

His regrets over Mark were, he confessed, one of the reasons he'd been so reluctant to accept his feelings for James. He might not believe in all that psychotherapy mumbo-jumbo, but he knew what transference was, and he'd just told himself that what he was beginning to feel for the young man was that. That he was channelling the relationship he wished he had with his son onto his sergeant. At least until he'd seen James with Zoe Kenneth, then it had become all too clear that what he'd felt was not fatherly in the least. The jealousy had been white hot in a way he hadn't felt since Val had started attending those evening classes and kept coming home singing the praises of her tutor Stephen Burke.

He couldn't blame Mark solely for their estrangement, of course, that wouldn't be fair. The deaths of two of the most important people in his life, only two years apart had sent him into a bottle and it had been hard to climb out, thankfully between Lyn and his Chief Super, he'd found his way free and then he'd been sent on secondment to the West Indies and he'd returned to Oxford a change man, ready to try and move forward.

Opening his now watery eyes, Robbie stared up at the ceiling with a small smile on his lips. Maybe once he'd sorted things out with James, he'd try again with Mark, for Val's sake. She hadn't mentioned him, but she no doubt knew what was going on, and wouldn't be happy about it. His hand twitched at the thought and he turned his head to stare at the empty space next to him, his heart leaping. "I'll fix it love," he whispered, "I'll try."

He was still staring at the wall when the door opened, and he turned to see a tearful Nell. His heart plummeted into his toes as he shoved himself up, ignoring the pain in his ribs and arm. "James?" he asked panicked, eyes already beginning to water.

_(*-*)_

James landed with a hard painful jolt on cold tiles, his head still buzzing with too much noise. He took a deep shaky breath, feeling his lungs burn and his eyes water as the dark slowly receded, leaving his mind cloudy. It took him a few moments to remember who he even was.

Rolling onto his back, he lay there, chest heaving as he listened, the deafening white-noise in his head fading away to be replaced with voices.

 _"Don't you dare do that again,"_ a male voice scolded, wet and angry. It was familiar but James couldn't quite place it. A warmth spread through his hand, squeezing reassuringly tight, comforting him.

A little more of the noise receded and another voice seeped into his consciousness, female and half familiar, "I can't believe you knew."

James frowned as a different male voice replied, "I can't believe you didn't," there was amusement in the voice, "He's been pretty obvious the past couple of years."

James forced his eyes open and inhaled sharply against the bright lights and the sudden influx of unknown voices, the clatter of metal and china. The overpowering scent of bacon, beans and eggs choked him. He twisted his head, his eyes flickering around the space he was currently stretched out in.

There were people everywhere, fussing around, talking loudly to one another. Some were dressed in casual clothes while others wore hospital gowns, night gowns and bathrobes. There were nurses scattered around the large canteen, some with patients, some taking a few minutes from caring for others to grab something to eat.

Struggling to his feet, James swayed when the room seemed to jerk sideways, he reached out to steady himself and found his hand settling into that of another person. Looking up his chest tightened as Mrs. Lewis smiled at him.

"Alright there sweetheart," she said quietly, "get your balance. You're fine, just a bit of a shock. You alright now?"

James nodded, breathless, "What happened?" he demanded, eyes once again shifting around him, the memories of the past few hours coming back. – Had it been hours? Days? Months? Lord how easily he'd lost track of time. "Where am I?"

Mrs. Lewis stared at him with concern, "You were in an accident."

James nodded, "I know, I mean… now?" he looked down at the woman, brows pinched, "I was with my dad and then…"

"Oh, you suffered a cardiac arrest. We lost you for a few moments there, almost made all of this pointless," she waved around, "but they brought you back."

James swayed a little more. _A cardiac arrest? Almost lost him?_ He looked back at Mrs. Lewis and inhaled sharply, she was dead, or at least meant to be. "Will?" he muttered, the memories slowly returning.

"Will played his part," Mrs. Lewis reassured him with a gentle squeeze of his arm, "Come along, I think you could do with a sit down." She began to lead him through the canteen, not caring about the people in their way.

"My dad," James muttered, "He could see me, could… _touch_ me."

Mrs. Lewis nodded, "I'm not surprised, Alzheimer's?" with James's nod she added, "A return to innocence."

James stared at her thoughtfully, "Same way your grandson could see you, back in the corridor."

Mrs. Lewis smiled brightly up at him, "Exactly. – Come on, sit down." She pushed him into an empty seat at a table for four, and took the one opposite.

Resting his elbows on the table, he laid his head in his hands. It was strange how he was so breathless despite not really existing. He rubbed a hand over his chest, surprised when he felt his heart beating a steady pace. He was certainly intrigued by all this, ghosts, his spiritual journey. It was unlocking his curiosity. If he had a choice, he might quit the police and spend the rest of his life exploring it all. - Regretfully he didn't have a choice, his life was set. His father needed to be cared for and he couldn't leave Nell to carry that burden alone, no matter how painful and difficult it was to face.

"What do you mean, the last couple of years?"

He looked up suddenly, still trying to regain his equalibrium, to find Lyn and her husband standing at the table. He watched as Mrs. Lewis got up, moving swiftly out of the way as Lyn took her abandoned seat, setting Matthew in the one next to her opposite his father, a banana firmly gripped in the little boy's hand. Mrs. Lewis moved around the table to crouch down beside Matthew, who turned to regard her with an excited grin. His parents too focused on their conversation to pay him much attention.

"When you told him you were pregnant and hinted about him moving up to Manchester, his first thought was James." David reminded her, shoving a sandwich across the table at her, followed by a cup of tea.

James turned his head to stare at the man beside him, his chest tightening again.

Lyn stared at her husband, "That was..." she tried, the words dying on her tongue, "That didn't mean... He was the same with Morse, when he'd considered going for promotion, I remember him and mum arguing about it." She shrugged, "I just assumed..." her features paled suddenly, her hand freezing on its way to her sandwich, "Oh god, Mark was right, wasn't he? I thought he was just being a wanker because he was still angry at dad but…" her face crumpled with a mixture of hurt and disgust, "Dad and Morse?"

David stared at her, brow raised, "Come on, love." he sighed, shaking his head, "Your dad said he didn't cheat on your mum, didn't he?"

Lyn folded her hands on the table, leaning heavily on them and hanging her head. "Yes, but... - He wouldn't admit it would he," she snapped staring at the table top, "If he's trying to win me over he wouldn't confess to having a secret gay affair with his old boss. He'd lie. He'd tell me whatever I want to hear so that I don't hate him, or his new toy boy." Her voice was thick with tears and anger, her hands shaking where they lay pressed against her arms.

James licked awkwardly at his lips and heaved a deep sigh. She was right of course, Robbie would say anything he had to, to avoid hurting his daughter. Robbie's kids were the most important thing in his life, and it hurt James to see the trust they shared as parent and child fraying, dangerously close to tearing away never to be repaired. It was hard enough on Robbie that he never saw his son, without losing Lyn. – Because of _him_.

"It's not because of you." Mrs. Lewis said confidently from the end of the table, "Mark is just angry, he never really believed anything was going on between Robbie and Morse, it was just a way to hurt his dad." She met James's gaze, "He thought that insinuating his dad was gay would be a huge insult, if he'd known his dad was bisexual, he'd have found something else."

David reached across the table, gripping his wife's arm lightly, giving it a comforting little squeeze, "Do you honestly believe your dad would do that? Have an affair?"

Lyn shrugged, "I don't know what to think anymore. I thought I knew my dad and now..." she shook her head, lifting a hand to swipe angrily at her tears. "It feels like...I'm trapped in some kind of crazy dream. Nothing makes sense anymore." She looked up, meeting her husband's gaze, and James felt his heart clench at the pain in her brown eyes, "It's not even just James," she whispered, "there's this whole part of my dad's past that I knew nothing about."

"Is there any reason you should?" David asked, smiling softly at her, "They're our parents but they were people first, love. They had lives and loves before we came along."

Lyn dropped her guilty gaze, "Whose side are you on?" she huffed.

David stared at her, "Are you asking me to take sides?" he asked, tone suddenly tight and cautious.

Lyn lifted her eyes slowly, and shrugged, "I... - I don't know. Yes. - No." Shaking her head, she buried her face in her hands, and David ran his fingers through his wife's short blond hair.

"I know it's hard, love, I do." Pausing he took a breath, licking at his lips, "but your dad is a grown man, and if he's found someone, don't you think you should be happy for him?"

"I _was_ happy for him," Lyn insisted, lifting her gaze.

"When it was a woman?" David pointed out, "But now it's a man, you suddenly changed your mind?"

Lyn glowered at him, "That's not... - You don't understand."

David sighed impatiently, "Of course I understand, you wanted him to find love again, just as long as it was with a woman. Just as long as it was socially acceptable, and the norm, right? Because that's how it's meant to be."

"I'm not homophobic!" Lyn snapped a little too loudly, and the people on the next table shot them a disapproving look.

James turned away, leaning forward on his elbows. He should leave, he knew he should, this was a private conversation, yet he found himself unable to get up, as if Mrs. Lewis was fixing him to his seat. Lifting his gaze, he looked over at the woman and found her talking in a quiet voice to her grandson, who seemed enraptured with her.

Lyn lowered her head, shifting closer to her husband and lowering her voice, "I'm not homophobic, you know that. I wouldn't love having your brother and his husband around if I were," she snapped insulted, "This isn't about dad being gay..."

"Bi," David corrected flatly.

"Okay, bi, this isn't about that, it's about our relationship. It's about him keeping secrets."

"He's _your_ parent, Lyn," He reminded her, voice growing harsh, "He doesn't have to answer to you. He doesn't have to tell you every detail of his life."

Lyn stared, her mouth hanging open. David took a deep calming breath and rubbed at his tired eyes. James shifted uncomfortably on his seat once more, guilt curling around his throat. This was his fault; Robbie's family was falling apart because of him. He should have just... - Maybe it would have been better for everyone if he'd died in that accident.

"You finished feeling sorry for yourself?"

James lifted his head to stare at Mrs. Lewis, only she wasn't looking at him, she was looking off into the distance. James followed her gaze and inhaled sharply as he found the back of the canteen gone, instead showing the familiar beer garden of the Trout. He glanced back at Mrs. Lewis who was watching him with a sad smile.

"Time to go, James. It was lovely meeting you." She said, eyes watering.

James frowned at her before looking back at the pub, suddenly aware of the two pint glasses in his hand. The cold condensation against his palm, and a gentle summer breeze playing around his bare legs. Getting up from the table, he stepped around, careful to keep a firm grip on the beers. Taking a few steps he paused, looking back down at the woman, "I don't know if I'm ready." He whispered, "I know what comes next."

Mrs. Lewis lifted her gaze, "Do you?"

James looked at the table a few feet away, a man sat staring out across the river. "Death."

"Death comes to us all," Mrs. Lewis said, getting to her feet and moving over to him, her hand heavy on his arm, "It's how we get there that counts." She leant forward, pressing her lips to his cheek. "Just learn from him," jerking her head towards the man a few feet away, "and come back. Robbie's waiting for you."

James's gaze drifted over his shoulder, where Lyn and her husband were sat silently staring at the table.

"Don't just stand there," the older man called indignantly.

James looked up and found the room completely gone, leaving him surrounded by wooden tables and chairs, the familiar scent of stale beer and fresh grass, He looked over to the stranger, though he was only a stranger in the sense that James had never met him personally, and found him waving James over.

With his eyes fixed on the dead detective, James padded barefoot across the beer garden, the setting summer sun burning the sky orange behind his latest ghost. He could only imagine what he looked like dressed only in a hospital gown.

Reaching the table, James set the glasses down and just stood there awkwardly staring at the man, taking in the familiar stranger's features. He'd seen pictures, of course. A detective with the reputation of Inspector Morse didn't have such a long illustrious career without getting his face in the paper once or twice.

Morse gulped down half his pint. When he lowered the glass he met James's eyes, "Well, sit down then, Sergeant."

James lowered himself onto the wooden chair, tugging at the gown. "Inspector."

"Pardon?" Morse said, looking at him over the rim of his glass.

James straightened his spine and met the man's gaze, "I'm a detective inspector, not a sergeant."

Morse stared at him, eyes searching, he lowered the glass and rested back against the chair, " _absit iniuria verbis."_

" _cuiusvis hominis est errare, nullius nisi insipientis in errore perseverare."_ James deadpanned, meeting the older detective square in the eyes. Watching as the man's brows pinched together as a look of outrage settled on his face, briefly, then the corner of his mouth turned up and a wide grin took its place. James exhaled a slow breath, and relaxed.

"I think we have time for another before we set out on our journey," Morse chuckled, finishing his drink before holding the glass out to James.

* * *

 **A/N: We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep - William James.**

 **I'm using Laurence's real year of birth for Hathaway, as I don't remember them actually stating his age on the show. I worked out that he's a year older (give or take) than Lyn by the fact that in Inspector Morse, season 8 episode: Daughters of Cain, Lewis mentions that she's doing her A Levels which means she's 17+, and as the episode aired in 1996, it means James is either the same age or a year older than Lyn, seeing as Laurence was born in 1978.**

 **Translations:**

 **Absit iniuria verbis = "let injury be absent" [Expresses the wish that no insult or injury be presumed or done by the speaker's words, i. e., "no offense".]**

 **cuiusvis hominis est errare, nullius nisi insipientis in errore perseverare = Anyone can err, but only the fool persists in his fault [Cicero, Philippica XII]**

 **Source: wiki/List_of_Latin_phrases_(full)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I don't think there are many more chapters, the next one might be the last but we'll see.**

 **Chapter title: "The future belongs to those who believe the beauty of their dreams"- Eleanor Roosevelt.**

* * *

 **The Future Belongs to Those Who Believe the Beauty of Their Dreams**

Robbie sat beside James's bed, the sun long since faded, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp above his ex-sergeant's head to drive away the darkness. He glanced up at the clock by the door to find it was barely 9pm.

Outside he could hear the sticky sound of footsteps, the nurse's rubber soled shoes sucking at the tiled floors as the moved up and down the corridor, accompanied by the squeak of trolley wheels.

It had taken a lot of desperate words and heartfelt pleading to get the staff to allow him into James's room after normal visiting time ended, and he was sure Lyn had a lot to do with it. Of course they weren't going to let him sit there all night, it was only a matter of time before one of the nurses came to literally drag him back to his own bed.

He'd been sat there alone for almost an hour now, listening to the sound of James's heart monitor reassuring him the lad was still with him, despite the earlier scare. It had terrified the life out of him when Nell, - as she insisted he call her now, - had rushed into his room, tears rolling down her face to tell him James had gone into cardiac arrest. His own heart had almost stopped, and in moments he was back in the wheelchair and being pushed hurriedly back to James's room. He'd arrived to find the staff leaving, relieved looks on their faces, and Robbie had slumped back in the chair, before wheeling it angrily into the room while Nell spoke to James's doctor.

He hadn't cared about who saw him when he reached for James's hand, squeezing it hard and muttering breathlessly in his ear, "Don't you dare do that again, you hear me!" he'd been furious and terrified, tears rolling down his cheeks.

He's stayed by James's side for twenty minutes before reluctantly returning to his own room, knowing he couldn't just leave his family there. He'd promised to return when his daughter left, and he did. Almost the second Lyn and David strolled out of his room, a promise to return the next day, - _"We're staying at the Travel Lodge,"_ \- Robbie was out of the room and back down the corridor to ICU, not giving a hoot about the pain shooting through his ribs.

For a couple of hours, he and Nell had sat on opposite sides of James's unconscious body, sharing stories and general conversation, until Nell had reluctantly had to leave. _"My dad will be wondering where I am, and I don't want to leave Thomas to deal with him alone."_

She'd filled him in on her father's condition; how he was going to need a home sooner rather than later, and that James wasn't at all happy about it, but then neither was she. Robbie had promised to stay beside her brother as long as they'd let him, the promise holding more weight than Robbie had initially intended.

Shifting uncomfortably in the wheelchair, Robbie scratched at his shin just below the cast, frustrated he couldn't reach any further. "God, I hate these things." he muttered to a sleeping James. "You'd think someone would come up with a way to scratch beneath it, without having to risk losing a damn pencil down there for six months." he looked up expectantly, signing when James didn't open his eyes to deliver some sarcastic comment or other. "Lyn brought me this," he said, pulling his hand away and lifting the paperback he'd been staring blankly at for the past hour. He didn't even know why he'd brought it with him, frankly. "Seems my daughter thinks that now I've come out about my past interest in men, that I'd be willing to read this tripe." he scoffed, glaring at the gaudy cover, with the half-naked man sprawled over a bed, all glistening skin and toned music. - Nothing like the type of man he found attractive. He looked over at James longingly, "I can't tell is she'd takin' the piss or if she's serious? - Though David said it was the lesser of two evils. Apparently my lass contemplated buyin' a book of romantic poetry." Scoffing, he shook his head, lifting his hand to rub at his ear. "I guess it's her way of being...supportive," he shrugged. "I suppose it could be worse, right? I don't quite know how, but..."

Looking back down at the book, he fanned through the pages once again, scoffing at the memory of finding a similar book he'd found in the corner of Morse's living room, tossed aside and forgotten. He'd taken a ridiculous pleasure in holding it up with a crooked smirk and watching his old boss grow flustered, glowering at the reminder of it. "It had been a hospital gift too," Robbie chuckled, "From our old Chief Super; Strange." he looked up, smirking, "Strange by name, Strange by nature sometimes. I mean, really, Morse reading one of these?" he shook his head, laughing lightly to himself. "He'd rather listen to rap music." he snorted, a wide grin spreading over his face at the idea of the illustrious Morse listening to rap music. "Have to admit, part of me is glad I wasn't there, as worried as I was. He'd have probably made me carry in his library of folios, or somethin'." Robbie grinned warmly down at the book in his hand, turning it over to once again read the back.

" _Anonymous sex, sizzling saucy secrets_." he read, cringing. He glanced up to James once more, "Well that sounds...naff." he huffed, looking back, " _Experience has taught smouldering-hot ad exec Logan Moore that office affairs always end in disaster, which is why his online romance with Scorpio63 is exactly what he needs. The anonymous, steamy encounters help him forget the secret urge for Trisha he gets every day… -_ Wow, I wonder who Scopio63 is going to be." Robbie grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Do people really read this trash? - _For Trisha, virtual sex with Pisces47 is so sinfully good it leaves her hungrier for the real, old-fashioned kind with Mr. Moore, her unattainable boss. But a chance remark of his makes her think the unthinkable: could the private sex fantasies she's been indulging in become a reality?"_ With another eye roll, Robbie tossed the book on the small bedside cabinet, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'd rather read a book of poetry. - Maybe I'll call David in the morning, ask him to bring us in something more suitable."

The door opened behind him as if on cue, and a sweet looking Asian nurse stepped in, an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry, Mr. Lewis, but it's time to go back to your own room."

Robbie sighed, nodding reluctantly. Looking back to James he pushed himself out of the chair, balancing shakily on his good foot and leant forward, his lips brushing the younger man's ear, "Just you stay right here, okay lad. I'll be back in the morning. Don't leave me." he whispered before pressing his lips to James's forehead, his eyes closed as he prayed James would make it through the night.

_(*-*)_

James stared out at the river, the sun setting over the water, painting the once crystal blue sky an array of golds, lilacs and pinks. It has been that way for a while now, James acknowledged. As if the moment, this perfect sunset, had been suspended in time. Across the table, Morse drank the last of his pint and scraped his pen across the newspaper.

"Well, let's go," The Chief Inspector announced, reluctance in his voice. Likely because he knew the hell James was going to see.

Turning to look at the man, James rose from his seat. "We could stay for another drink?"

Morse lifted his gaze from his newspaper, brow quirked in question.

"I know what you are," James muttered quietly, " and what you intend to show me." Taking a deep breath, James's body jerked as a shiver passed through him, "You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not been, but will be in time to come."

Morse stared at him, grey brow raised in amusement, then the man scoffed, turning away from James, "And as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear your company." He finished to the empty air, Morse disappearing around the side of the pub.

With another wary sigh, James reluctantly followed. There was a part of him, that curious copper part, that wanted to know what the future had in store for him. No doubt Robbie would not be a part of it, or he wouldn't be here in the first place. The goal of this whole farce seemed to be persuading him to take a chance and pursue a relationship with his ex-boss, best friend and love of his life, yet why he was being forced to take this third and final trip, he had no idea. All he'd needed was to hear Robbie wanted him too, and he was willing to leap into the man's arms.

Though he would admit, he had reservations still, concerning Robbie's family. His daughter was clearly not going to accept their relationship with grace and support, and Lord only knew what Robbie's son would make of it all. - Nothing good no doubt.

But those were small things. Insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Robbie cared for him, wanted him, that was all James needed to know. The rest they could find a way around. - Surely.

Turning the corner of the Trout, James drew to a stop at the sight of Morse stood impatiently beside a red Jaguar, gleaming in the bright setting sun. It was as if it were a scene pulled directly from Robbie's photo album.

 _"Lyn took it. We'd all been having a Sunday lunch at the pub, when...well, you know how the life of a copper is,"_ Robbie had shrugged, _"Morse had to come and get me, Val needed the car to drive the kids home. I got a right bollocking when he saw Lyn taking his photo from the edge of the car park." He had smiled sadly, "Glad she did mind, or I'd have nothing to mind me of the old grouch."_

James worried his lower lip and picked up the pace, hurrying over before he too received a bollocking. He felt naturally intimidated by the older man in a way he hadn't felt since his own father. James wondered if he had that effect on everyone, he knew he'd certainly had it on Robbie. - Yet, his friend and would be lover, spoke of the old Inspector with such deference and affection, with a little frustration added in there, that it was clear the man also earned their respect.

Before he'd even reached the car, Morse was climbing inside and started the engine. Even with both doors shut and the windows rolled up, James could hear the vaguely familiar movement of Lohengrin, and remembered Robbie telling him that his old Inspector was a fan of Wagner. Pulling open the car door, James winced at the loud overpowering music. It was a wonder Robbie hadn't gone deaf driving around with Morse if he regularly blared his music so loud. James had gone to gigs less overpowering.

As he lowered himself onto the red leather seat, shifting uncomfortable and tugging at the hem of his hospital gown. Feeling the Inspector's eyes burning into him, he turned to see Morse glowering at him, brows knitted.

"Couldn't you have worn some proper clothes?" he demanded, eyes racking over James's body.

James looked down at his outfit and shrugged, "I wasn't given any."

Morse rolled his eyes and sighed, "I suppose I shouldn't expect anything different from a Cambridge man." he grumbled, turning the wheel and pulling away from the parking spot, and James was amazed that he could hear it over the sound of violins and cellos. "I hope Lewis taught you how to be a good detective at least."

James knew he should feel insulted, but there was something in the old man's voice when he spoke of Lewis that proved just how much the Inspector had valued his sergeant. Though James doubted Robbie ever knew that.

When he turned back around to stare at the road ahead, he caught sight of his lap out of the corner of his eye. Instantly he dropped his gaze to find himself staring at his legs wrapped in a soft grey fabric. Moving his gaze and hands up over his body, he found he was also wearing a shirt, tie and jacket, and his mouth fell open.

"I'm not wandering around Oxford with you in a hospital gown." Morse remarked over the music.

Without a word, or any move to turn the music down, Morse drove them away from the pub, through the familiar wooden gate and out onto the road. There was paused, head turning to stare expectantly at him. James frowned, waiting, confused as to what the older inspector wanted of him.

"Which way?" Morse finally asked, irritated.

James frowned, "You're the one guiding me, aren't you?"

"Left or Right?"

Still confused James shrugged, looking both way, unsure what the difference would mean. "Left." he eventually muttered.

Morse gave a sharp nod and turned the wheel, taking them away from the city center.

They drove in silence, but for the music making James's ears ring. He had nothing about it, he liked classical music. Even liked Wagner, on occasion, but there was something about it that made James's insides twist sadly. He glanced over to Morse, who seemed lost in the music, happily driving along the Oxfordshire countryside. James tried to imagine a younger Robert Lewis, sat in the leather seat he currently occupied, forced to listen to a variety of operas and overtures. James's lip curled and he turned his head to hide it from the other man.

After a while, longer than James expected, the Jag drive through the open gates of a large estate. James's stomach clenched as he saw the sign as they passed. **St Gregory's Retirement Home**. It has been at the top of Nell's list for possibly places to send their father. It apparently ticked all the boxes, providing every amenity an aging man could want, and they specialize in dementia. Which James knew was a good, better than good in fact. He just hated it.

He was pretty sure Nell was under the impression that his reluctance had to do with money. She'd made more than a few biting comments in the past couple of months. Especially when he'd mention that he was considering leaving the force. She'd accused him of wiping his hands of the situation and hiding away, being selfish.

Only it has nothing to do with the money, and that his sister would think such a thing only went to show truly how little they knew one another, deep down.

His problem was the thought of his father withering away surrounded by strangers who didn't know him and were paid to care. It cut at his conscience. Clawed at his soul.

He'd attempted to tell Nell as much, but she wouldn't listen, dismissing his fears and uncertainties, insisting he just felt guilty because he wasn't close to their father. That had made him angry, but also tired. Tired of everything. So he'd yelled at her to do whatever she please, promised to pay his share, and had spoken to her since. - That was almost two months ago. Two whole months without a word, and yet when he'd landed himself in a coma, Nell hasn't thought twice about rushing to his bedside.

Climbing out of the car, James followed behind Morse like a naughty school boy, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, and his eyes flickering guilty around. "What are we doing here?" He asked, if only to break the silence. It was obvious what they were doing there, he was going to see the future. His future? His father's? - Robbie's? He shook his head at the thought, no, he would never allow Robbie to live out the rest of his data in a place like this, whether they were together or not.

They turned a corner and James felt his stomach clench, his heart leaping into his throat. In an old chair by the window say his father, staring off into space, a tray of food left forgotten in front of him. He looked pal, empty, nothing like the man he'd looked up to all his life. The spark in him was gone, extinguished by the world around him.

Without a hesitation, James marched past Morse and over to his father, dropping down into the chair in front of him. "Dad?" He called, voice brittle with sadness. " Dad, it's James. "

The man didn't turn. Didn't even seem to hear him. But he'd heard him before, seen him, spoken to him. Reaching out Has tried to set his hand in the man's arm, only for it to pass right through.

"James."

Nell's angry voice drew his attention, his head snapping around to seek out his sister. She can see me? He thought, heart racing, only to find her shooting an apologetic look at one of the nurses, while hurrying towards him, phone pressed to her ear. She moved close to the window, facing the gardens, and lowered her voice. "I don't care if you've got a murder case, it's dad's birthday and he's asking for you." There was a long silence and James stared at his sister, noting the tired rings beneath her eyes and the lack of a wedding ring on her finger.

"You promised James. You promised him, can't your sergeant take care of it, isn't that what she's for!"

James turned to look at Morse, who was hovering uncomfortably a few feet away, at the next window, hands in his pockets.

"Fine, just keep working, wither away behind your desk forever! See if I give a damn!" Then she hung up, turning to looked at their father. James inhaled sharply as the tear rolling down her cheek.

"Sorry, Dad," she said gently, lowering herself onto the window seat, "He's for a murder to investigate."

Looking between the pair, James clenched his jaw tightly, furious at his other self. How could he miss his dad's birthday? He looked at the fragile old man in front of him. He wouldn't have many more, and James was missing it for a murder. "This is exactly why I didn't want to stay." He said bitterly. "I knew I'd end up a burying myself in the work and missing out on life."

"You don't have much of a life to miss out on. " Morse said from behind him.

James shot him a disgruntled look, but the older detective to its it, instead turning to leave without another word.

James looked from the departing man, to his father, and to his sister. He didn't want to leave. If he couldn't be there in person, then at least he could be there in spirit. Literally.

However, he was there to see what his future had in story, so as to mark it better. He knew he could chance it, and had already decided to, but something told him Morse, or whoever was controlling this spiritual journey, weren't going to let him off until he'd seen it through to the end.

So, with great reluctance, James got to his feet, "I'm sorry, Dad." He muttered, moving to grip the man's shoulder once more, only to pull his hand back when he remembered it would pass through. With a wary sigh, James stepped away.

He found Morse back at the car, hand in the pockets of his trousers, staring off into the distance. As he approuched, the older man turned to meet his gaze.

"It's not easy," Morse stared matter-of-factly, "seeing them like that."

James swallowed thickly, blinking away the tears. "It won't happen." He said promised firmly.

Morse stared at him silently for a moment, before pushing himself off the car door and tanking it open. Slipping inside and starting the engine.

As much as James didn't want too, he stepped around the Jaguar and got in, gritting his teeth against the music. Morse must have noticed, perhaps for the first time, because he leant forward and turned it off. As if it could only be listened to at a deafening volume.

"I suppose you like that modern? What do they call it, garbage?"

James could stop his lip curling, despite not really feeling all that amused. "Garage." He corrected, "and actually I have a collective taste in music, including Wagner."

Horse's head snapped around, surprised, "Really."

James incline his head. "Among others."

Morse gunned approvingly, "I could never get Lewis to appreciate the beauty of opera." He bemoaned, shaking his head.

"Actually, he's developed rather a liking for classical music since you…." James cleared his throat, "He's got a decent collection growing among his CDs."

Morse looked at him again, lips turned up at the corners. "At least he got their eventually."

They drifted back into silence, the music filling the car once more for the rest of the drive, - An unnecessary drive James knew, they could just as easily have appeared wherever Morse intended for them to go, after all, it's what he'd done with both Will and Mrs. Lewis.

_(*-*)_

James had no idea how far into his future Morse had taken him. The station looked just the same. He passed officers as Morse lead him inside, and up the stairs, none of them able to see him, which was probably why he heard two uniforms calling him a miserable posh git.

"No wonder he isn't married." A tall man with dark hair man said, leaning his shoulder against the side of a fending machine, lip curled with amusement.

His colleague, a young woman with mousy blonde hair, shook her head, "I heard it's because he's celibate. Used to be a priest before he joined the force."

The man huffed out an amused laugh, "Huh, that explains a lot. Wonder why he left? – Or maybe they kicked him out." He hummed thoughtfully, "Think he was…you know…" he jerked his head to the right, "with the altar boys."

The woman rolled her eyes and glared at him, "He wouldn't be an Inspector if he was…" She sounded genuinely appalled at the accusation, and so was James, who stood staring at the pair of them, lips in a thin line of fury.

"Your both wrong," announced an older man, stepping out of a room to their pairs left, he looked familiar, but James couldn't quite place him. "He's a miserable shit head because he was fucking his boss, who once he'd retired cut all ties with him and pissed off to Manchester. He's never gotten over it."

The uniforms stared at the senior officer, mouths gaping. "You're kidding?" the woman said, sounding regretfully and sad.

The older man shook his head, "Nope, I was here when Hathaway was still a sergeant, in uniform. Everyone suspected him and DI Lewis were screwing around together, they weren't at all subtle about it." He shrugged and James felt his fingers curled into a fist at his side.

"It's a lie." James insisted firmly, looking to Morse, who watched him with sympathy. "Nothing ever happened between me and Rob… Inspector Lewis."

"Rumours come with the job," Morse sighed, "I only know half the stuff they were whispering about me behind my back. – I believe I was rumoured to be having an affair with Lewis too." He looked unimpressed, shooting the three officers a withering glare, "You'd think they'd have better things to do than stand around gossiping about senior officers. – That said, they're not completely wrong, are they?" he murmured, turning to waltz away.

"Meaning?" James demanded, hurrying after him, shooting the trio one final murders look.

Morse didn't answer, he simply disappeared into an office at the end hall.

The office looked like any other; cold and grey. It could belong to anyone if not for the familiar scattering of books on the shelf, small leaflet for one of his bands performances tacked to the side of the bookcase. The gold trophy he'd won at the police footie match the year after starting work with Robbie. James smiled at the memory, the image of a sweaty and flushed Robbie, panting through a bright triumphant grin.

Stepping further into the office, James let his eyes drift around the small room, taking in his domain. There was a large pile of paper work on his desk, scattered and untidy, and he felt his stomach tighten slight at the sight. The shelves while not jammed packed, were chaotic and looked to be overflowing, despite the gaps. When James had imagined his office, he'd pictured it looking exactly as it had when he'd shared it with Robbie, tidy and comfortable, despite the cool bluish-grey walls, and stark white blinds. He'd imagined it feeling like a second home to him, again as his old office had done.

Despite the light streaming in through the window, the room seemed dark and foreboding. Unwelcoming. James shivered.

There was something missing from this office, he realised. Something important, something that had obviously made all the difference. Robbie.

Moving around the small space, James sighed regretfully to himself. The sound of a voices caught his attention and he turned to find a young mixed race woman talking animatedly with Innocent, as they marched into the room.

"Ma'am, this isn't what I want, but I can't take it anymore," the woman sighed warily.

James moved over to the door separating him from the larger open planned office, somehow knowing they were discussing him.

"I know it's been difficult…" Innocent said, sounding desperate.

"With all due respect ma'am, he's beyond difficult." Her voice grew louder and more desperate, "I've been here for almost a year now Ma'am, and he still won't let me do my job. I'd understand it if I was straight out of uniform, but I was a sergeant for almost eighteen months before transferring to Oxford. I don't expect to be given the work of a DC. I don't expect to be left behind while he runs off around Oxford doing all the actual police work. – He won't even let me do the paper work." She gestured to the office, and the pile of papers Innocent could certainly see through the window.

James watched Innocent's shoulders slump, her hand lifting to rub tiredly at her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I want a transfer."

"Am I really that bad?" James asked, eyes wide with regret and shame. "I can't be that bad, I learnt from the best."

Morse huffed out a humourless laugh, "So did I," he muttered, moving over to examine James's bookshelf, or his future bookshelf. "My DCI was a great man. Believed in me when no one else did. Encouraged me and trusted me. I know I treated him badly, he wasn't the first." He stared sadly down at the desk, a shadow of something passing over his face.

"Lewis only ever speaks fondly of you."

"Now I'm dead, of course." Morse dismissed lightly, "I always knew Lewis would make an excellent detective." He added, a hint of pride in his tone and James felt his lip curve.

There was a long moment of silence, James watching Morse nose around the office a little more, before the man turned and marched out of the door. This time when James followed, he found himself transitioning from one place to another, seamless. Between one blink and the next, James found himself standing an unfamiliar living room. It was dark and even through there was a fire burning and the thick blue curtains were drawn, it felt…icy. It was hard to imagine anyone living there, least of all himself.

And it was most certainly his home, he saw the photo of his parents on the mantelpiece, and his guitar lay propped up in the corner, a layer of dust gathering along its body and strings. There was an open book on the coffee table next to a half empty bottle of _Glenfiddich_ , and a cigarette burned in the ashtray. James moved around the room, examining it, just as he'd done with his office. There were two empty bottles in small rubbish bin beside the couch, as well as five empty crumpled cigarette packs. He'd like to believe he just hadn't empty the bin in a few days, but somehow he knew that wouldn't be true.

The sound of movement behind him, had James turning to watch an older man shuffle into the room, his white dress shirt unbuttoned and wrinkled. James's heart skipped when he looked closer and recognised his own features, the blonde hair beginning to fade to grey, wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, dark shadows beneath them.

His older-self bent down, retrieving the glass, throwing back the last finger of scotch, before returning it to the table with a thud. He then grabbed the cigarette and turned to leave again. James went after him, staring in surprise and sadness as he shrugged into his large black coat and grabbed his keys.

James turned to look at Morse, who nodded for him to follow.

Stepping through the door, James was instantly surrounded by gravestones, and his chest tightened as he followed himself along a familiar path, to a familiar grave. He noticed the large bouquet of flowers in his older self's hand, and bit into his lip.

When his older self stopped in front of a grave, James froze in the middle of the path, unable to move any closer. He already knew who lay there without needing to see the man's name carved onto the stone. Laid to rest beside his beloved wife. Together for eternity. He felt a tears pool in his eyes, and inhaled as deeply as he could. He stood there watching as his older self talked quietly to the grave, unable to hear what was being said.

James frowned when he caught a voice on the wind, and his heart began to race, _"Just you stay right here, okay lad. I'll be back in the morning."_ He turned, expecting to see Robbie behind him, but there was no one but Morse, the man's flesh paler than it was a few seconds ago, his eyes shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. _"Don't leave me."_ Robbie's voice drifted past him again, making his breath catch. He felt something brush across of his forehead and he raised a hand to sweep it aside, only to find nothing there but a lingering warmth.

"What are you doing here?"

Both James's turned to stare at the woman, her mousy hair shot through with grey, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Despite her age, James recognised her immediately, "Lyn." He said in unison with his older self.

"I came to pay my respects." His older self said, looking stiff and uncomfortable as he got to his feet.

Lyn clenched her jaw, "You're not welcome." She seethed, and both James's frowned. "Don't look so surprised." Lyn muttered, marching over to her parents grave and lifting the flower, shoving them into his older self's arms.

James clenched his jaw, stepping over to join the pair.

"Lyn."

"Don't." She snapped, gently lowering her flowers to the grave, "I told you five years ago that I'd never forgive you, and I haven't."

Frowning James looked between the pair, Forgive him? For what, his relationship with her father? Is this what would come from moving forward with Robbie? Would he and his children's relationship crumble, because of James? It was James's worst nightmare playing out in glorious technicolour and it was ripping him up inside.

Lyn got to her feet, whirling around to meet the older man's eyes, "You broke his heart!" she snapped furiously, "He took a chance and laid it all on the line for you, and you rejected him!"

"I did what I thought was best."

James's frown deepened and his heart hammered painfully in his chest. He was confused. Lyn was angry at him for _not_ having a relationship with her father.

Lyn scoffed, "So you said."

"I didn't want to come between him and his family. You made it perfectly clear that you didn't approve."

"I was in shock. I was still getting my head around finding out my dad was bisexual, excuse me for not instantly wanting to organise your big gay wedding," she yelled.

James's looked at himself, watched the way his older eyes widened then fell to stare at the ground. "I…"

"I don't care." Lyn spat, turning on her heels and marching away. She was a few feet away when she turned to stare at him, eyes blazing, "You know the worst part, they blamed me."

"What?"

"David and Dad, they blamed me." Her shoulder's slumped, tears rolling down her cheek, "He never said it," she muttered, glancing at Robbie's headstone, "But I knew. I saw it in his eyes. – And David," she swallowed thickly, and James could see her hands shaking as she wrapped her right hand over her left, and he noted the missing band of gold.

"I'm sorry." His older self said quietly, "If I could change things," he shook his head, "I never stopped loving him." Dropping his gaze to the grave, rubbed at his left arm, "I just… - I got scared." He said, eventually looking back at Lyn, "I was scared to be happy."

With a groan, James gasped for breath, his hand clutching at his chest. The world darkened around him, narrowing down to a single point in the distance. He could see Morse staring back at him silently. James's legs felt like jelly, crumpling beneath him.

"Time to go, Hathaway." Morse said quietly, turning to look over his shoulder into what remained of the light.

James panted as fear clawed at his throat, threatening to strangle him. "I… - I don't…"

"Shhhh, everything will be fine." A soft voice whispered.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry if Morse doesn't quite work, it turned out to be a lot harder to write him than expected, despite binge-watching the entirety of Inspector Morse and Endeavour. I'm regretfully not smart enough to write any deep conversations about Opera, Literature or philosophy, which I feel is part of the reason this chapter didn't turn out the way I'd envisioned, but I hope it was at least a little enjoyable, and didn't take away from the story too much.**

 **I haven't had the time to read through this properly, so if there are any huge spelling/grammar mistakes, or inconsistencies, please let me know. Thank you. Hopefully it won't be as long a wait for the next chapter.**

 **Sources: The book reference in this chapter is called Private Confessions by Lori Borrill. I haven't read it, though I do enjoy a good Mills and Boon, - That said, I haven't read one since I discovered fanfiction. - so the opinions expressed in this story are solely those of the characters.**

 **I know nothing at all about Opera, I'm going purely from what I read on Wikipedia, and listened along on Spotify.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This is the final chapter, it's been a fun ride and I'd like to thank you all for sticking with me. As always, the final chapter has been a nightmare to writer. Which is part of the reason it's taken me so long to get it written and posted, the other reason being life. – But I hope this final chapter doesn't stink.**

* * *

 **God Bless Us, Every One**

James blinked up at the approaching figure, the pounding of his heart loud in his ears.

"Shhh, sweetheart, you're safe. You'll be just fine now." She whispered.

Slowly her face came into focus and James let out a whimper, "M-mum?"

Margaret Hathaway lowered herself down gracefully to kneel in front of her son, her dark blonde hair flowing around her shoulders, not a hint of grey, and her blue eyes clear and shining brightly. A warm loving smile pulled at her lips and James swallowed back another sob, she looked beautiful and happy, as she'd been in his youth, before everything fell apart.

"I'm sorry James." Margaret said softly, her hand reaching out to cup his damp cheek, "I'm so _very_ sorry."

"Mum?"

She shook her head, "Everything I did, everything I said. I was wrong. You were such a happy brave boy and I crushed you. I tried to change you, because I was scared. Scared of what you'd become, but I should have known. I should have known you could never hurt anyone. - My baby boy." She dragged her thumb beneath James's eyes, wiping away fresh tears. "I failed to protect Nell when she needed it, and over protected you when you didn't. – I stopped you for being happy. I stopped you from finding love. – I should have accepted you instead of pushing you into a life you weren't suited for."

James's throat constricted painfully, his whole body shaking. He wanted to say it wasn't her fault. That it had been his choice, and part of him knew that was true. If he'd been stronger, less scared of becoming an outcast, he could have taken a different path. A path that led away from the seminary, and all the pain and misery that had come with that decision.

But the fact was, she'd had a larger influence on his life than he'd known. He'd blocked out so much of his past, rewritten it so as to shield her from whatever anger and hatred the truth would have allowed to grow between them. - And it had cost lives.

"I'm sorry, my darling." She whispered, fingers carding through his hair, "If I'd known..." She shook her head guiltily.

"We choose our paths." James muttered, eyes cast down to stare at the dirt beneath him. "I could have followed my heart. Gone to Cambridge and embraced who I wanted to be."

Margaret shook her head, "You were too good, too loving to rebel against my wishes. I knew that, and I used it to lock you away where I believed you'd be... _restrained_. Where you wouldn't be able to hurt anyone like Mortmagine had."

James's eyes widened with hurt and anger, "I could never..." he was cut off by his mother shaking her head, "I know that my sweet. Deep down, I always knew that, but...I was scared, and you know what James Steward said about fear, _It's an insidious and deadly thing._ " she whimpered.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the memory of his mother's love for the old actor, and his namesake, then he reached out, pulling her into another hug. He pressed his face back into her shoulder and held on, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume.

They remained like that for what felt like hours, just wrapped in each other's arms. Finally, Margaret pulled away, looking into her son's watery blue eyes, her hand cupping his cheek. "It's time to go how now, lovely." She smiled softly, "You have someone waiting for you."

James's heart skipped and he inhaled sharply, gaze dropping, "You know?" he shook his head at the ridiculousness of the question. Of course his mother knew. In a second his head snapped up, eyes fixed questioningly on her, "You did this?" he asked cautiously, "Why?"

Margaret's lip curled sadly, "Like I said, I want you to be happy."

"But…" James swallowed thickly, his hands beginning to shake, "Robbie… - Why Robbie? Why now?"

"Your accident gave me the opportunity to step in, to fix things." She informed him matter-of-factly, eyes one more brimming with tears, "As for your gentleman," her voice tightened somewhat, a hint of the displeasure remaining just beneath the survive, "You love him," she said, back straightening determinedly, "and I've been reasonably informed that he loves you. If it weren't for what I'd done all those years ago, what I'd continued to do up until my death, you would have followed your heart long ago. Instead you've both been miserable. It was only right for me to fix that." She leant forward, pressing her lips to James's forehead before resting her own there, "I want you to be happy, James. I want you to know love. I don't what you to wallow away on your own until the day you join me and your father here, never having experienced half of what we'd shared." Her voice was quiet and fragile, and James felt the dampness of her tears against his skin. "So go home James. Go home and tell him you love him, and have the life I should have always wanted for you."

James's throat closed up around a fresh sob. There was another kiss from his mother's lip and then she was stepping away.

"Tell your father, I'm sorry. That I love him and I'm waiting for him." She whispered brokenly, "I'll see him soon."

James's chest tightened as he watched his mother stepped back further, the bright light of eternity wrapping around her in a tight embrace. Reclaiming her soul. Then he exhaled a pain breath as she vanished completely, the world around him fading to darkness.

_(*-*)_

Robbie was half way back to his room when he heard the sound of running feet. Something inside him told him to stop, to look around. Holding up his hand to the nurse, stopping her, he craned his neck to look past her and felt his heart shatter as he saw staff rushing into James's room. "Back. Take me back!" he ordered loudly.

There were a few seconds of hesitation but eventually the young nurse turned the wheelchair around and pushed him back the way he'd just come. When Robbie reacted the room, the curtain had been pulled around the bed and a doctor was hurrying past him. "What's happening?" he yelled, but got no answer. Tilting his head back he looked up at his nurse, hoping she'd get the hint and go find out, but she just stared worriedly through the window, her lips a thin line.

Robbie sat there, his hand pressed to his thigh, trembling fearfully. It felt like forever before one of the nurses left the room, and Robbie didn't hesitate in reaching out and snagging her wrist. She startled, looking down at him. "What's happening?" he demanded, fear and panic clear in his voice.

The nurse's eyes softened and her other hand moved to grip his, slowly easing it off, "He's awake."

Robbie stared.

The words rolled around in his mind, never quite settling. He blinked and the nurse was gone. Tears pooled and he turned back to stare at the curtain, heart pounding. He was awake. James was awake, but what he alright. Head injuries were serious.

A thousand and one different scenarios played on repeat in his head causing him to jump when a hand landed on his shoulder. Looking up Robbie stared at the tired face of a young Indian doctor.

"Mr Lewis?" the man said, a surprisingly thick Scottish accent.

It took a few minutes for the world to right itself and his heart to stop pounding in his ears, "Uh, yes."

The Doctor, whose name was McDonald according to his badge, smiled understandingly down at him, "He's asking for you."

Robbie's heart practically exploded, "Is he alright?"

Doctor McDonald's lips thinned, "It's hard to say right now, we'll need to do some test, but he's wake and talkin', which is a good sign. You can go in, but only for a few minutes," he said, looking pointedly at the nurse before dropping his gaze back to Robbie, "It's late, and you both need your rest."

Robbie nodded, "Thank you doctor." He said gratefully.

The nurse took that as her cue and pushed him into the room and over to the side of the bed. James was laying on his back, eyes closed. The tubes had been removed but there was still the incessant beeping of the heart monitor, though it was a lot steadier now. Robbie inhaled slowly, biting at his lower lip. The second the chair stopped at the side of the bed, he reached for James's hand.

"James? Lad, its me." He said quietly.

"I'll be outside," the nurse said softly, backing away, "A few minutes, Mr. Lewis."

He didn't reply, his watery eyes fixed on the pale profile of the man he loved, "James? It's Robbie."

It was a few painfully long seconds before there was a gentle breath and the flutter of golden lashes, "R-Robbie." James breathed, voice so quiet that Robbie had to lean a little closer to hear it.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here. You're alright. You're going to be alright." His voice broke one the last few words and he squeezed James's hand reassuringly. "Oh God, James, I thought I'd lost you." He added brokenly a few seconds later.

Slowly James turned his head, blue blood shot eyes meeting Robbie's. "H-hey." He stammered, voice weak and rough from the tubing that had been in his throat only moments ago.

"Shhh, don't talk." Robbie insisted, his left hand moving from where it was clinging to James's wrist to cup the young man's cheek, his thumb rubbing cautiously across the stumbled flesh. "Hey." He smiled back.

_(*-*)_

James opened his eyes slowly on the third morning to the sight of a blurry figure beside his bed. "Robbie?" He croaked out weakly, smacking his lips together in a pointless attempt to create moisture.

"Afraid not, Jammy." Nell replied quietly, "Here."

He felt the plastic of a straw pressed to his lips and sucked as best he could, water filling his mouth to cool his throat and helping ease the dryness. After a few swallow, he lifted a trembling hand and pushed it away, blinking to better focus on his sister.

Nell set the blue tumbler down on the bedside cabinet, but didn't return to her seat, instead hovered beside him, her slim fingers curling around his wrist, careful to avoid his IV. "You seem more wake this time." She said with a warm smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I am, " he grumbled, throat still not fully recovered from the breathing tube.

"I'm glad," Nell sighed, relieved, " You had us all very worried, baby brother."

"Us?" James frowned.

"Me, Dad and Thomas, not to mention your... - Robbie." Her lip curled up knowingly. "He's been here every day. "

James's head felt like cotton wool, he had a very vague memory of Robbie, sat beside his bed, hand on his cheek. "He's not..."

"He was discharged yesterday afternoon, so he probably won't be in for a while yet."

"Discharged?" James muttered, brows so tightly knitted together that a headache was beginning to take hold.

Nell quirked a brow, then pulled the chair forward, lowering herself down into it. "How much do you remember?" she asked him cautiously.

James thought back, the last thing he could remember clearly was being sat in the pub with a young woman. His date. He clawed his way through the thick cloud of confusion and fog, until he found another memory. "I was...in the car park of the Trout," he muttered shakily, eyes narrowing as he thought back everything was just a blank. "I... - I was with Lewis?"

Nell frowned at him, concerned. "Yes, James."

James nodded absently, "I don't remember anything after that."

Nell sighed, "The doctor said that might be the case. It's common for people to forget the events leading up to and during an accident. Especially one as traumatic as yours was."

He knew he'd spoken to the doctors in the last few days, had tests done, but he'd been still so out of it, that it was all mostly a blur. "Is... Is Lewis okay?" he asked, uncertainly.

Nell started at him for a long second before nodding slowly, "He's fine. You'll see for yourself when he comes back. He's been here every day."

"He has? " James muttered roughly.

"He was here with you when you woke up. Don't you remember?"

James's brows pinch together thoughtfully. He had a vague memory of Robbie staring at him with relived eyes and a soft smile. The warmth of a hand on his cheek. He swallowed, licking at his lips as a small blossom of hope settled inside him.

Ever since he'd woke, he had this strange sense. Like of as if he'd forgotten to turn the gas of at home, or had left his car keys somewhere he couldn't quiet remember. It was a heavy pressure on the back of his mind, driving him crazy.

"Jammy, you okay?"

James blinked, turning his attention back to his sister, staring at her for a long silent moment. "Uh…yeah." He finally whispered.

"You sure? Do you want me to get a doctor?"

With a shake of his head, James smile, "No, I'm fine. Still a little groggy is all. – How's dad?"

It was obviously she didn't believe him, but she didn't press the issue. "Okay," she sighed, settling back in her chair, "He's doing alright. I left him in the front room reading…"

"Keats."

Nell's brows pinched together, "How'd you know?"

"I…" James frowned, "Just a guess."

_(*-*)_

Being released from hospital wasn't as simple as it probably should have been. Usually when a patient is released, he goes home and is waited on for a few days. He gets to relax on his sofa and just wait for the pain to stop. For Robbie though, he didn't have a home to go back to. It wasn't as if Laura was going to allow him to stay at the house with her while he recovered, which meant that instead of R and R, Robbie was forced to take a room at one of the smaller hotels in Oxford until he could find a new flat.

Lyn had been an angel, organising things for him. She'd even gone over to Laura's place to collect his things. She didn't tell him what had happened, but when he saw her tired red-rimmed eyes he knew it hadn't gone all that smoothly, and he felt the weight of guilt at putting his little girl in that position. She'd liked Laura, they'd gotten on, and now if he knew his daughter, the pair weren't going to be on speaking terms.

David had been amazing too, though it hadn't gone unnoticed that things were tense between him and Lyn, and that just added to Robbie's sense of guilt. He was causing so much agro and pain for the people he cared about. That said however, he wouldn't change his mind now, even if he could. He wasn't going to keep pretending he wasn't in love. Not only because he'd promised Val, but because he was just tired of it.

While he was carrying a lot of guilt for the pain he was causing, it had also released him from so much more. The pressure on his heart had lifted the moment he'd accepted the truth and stopped hiding.

Now he only hoped he could convince James to give it a try.

A knock on his hotel room door announced the arrival of his ride, and he struggled up off the leather chair by the window, grabbing his crutches, and hobbled over to answer it. Lyn had smiled at him, Matty in her arms, eyes red and teary.

"Oh, lad, what's wrong?" Robbie cooed, reaching out to cradle his grandson's head.

"He's just restless today." Lyn told him with a tired sighed.

"Missing ya dad, are you, lad?" he looked at his daughter, "I told y'Lass, you should have gone home with Dad."

His son-in-law was forced to return to Manchester the previous evening due to work commitments, but Lyn had refused to go with him, insisting on staying around to help Robbie. He'd taken the train back, leaving Lyn the car, which made it easier for her to get around the city with both Matthew and Robbie.

The look she shot him could have taken down an elephant, "We've been through his dad, I'm not leaving until you're settled."

Robbie exhaled warily, shaking his head and turned back into the room, grabbing his jacket. "Okay, let's go then."

It took them a few minutes to manoeuvre their way down to the car, between a struggling toddler and Robbie hobbling along on his crutches, but finally they had their seatbelts fastened and where heading alone the high street towards the hospital.

They chatted casually about nothing important. After all, there was little left to say after almost five days. When they reached the hospital, Lyn dropped him off at the front entrance then headed off to find a parking space.

Robbie had gotten surprisingly good at manoeuvring his way around and quickly found himself outside Jamie's room. He paused to fuss with his hair, picking a stray piece of lint off his sweater. He didn't know what he was fussing really, James was barely aware he was there, let alone care what he looked like.

Brushing his hair back one more time, Robbie gripped the hand rests if his crutches and asked a passing nurse to grab the door for him.

He almost stumbled over his own feet when he hobbled over the threshold and found James sat up in his bed, looking chipper and wide away. "You're awake." He stated out loud, utterly pointlessly.

James smiled, eyes warm with amusement. "Excellent observation. Have you considered becoming a detective?"

Robbie narrowed his eyes sternly at the younger man, even as his heart was soaring with happiness. "Have you considered not being a smart ass." Robbie countered, hobbling closer to the bed, his gaze never leaving James's face, with its bright smile and healthy glow. The sight had his heart beating faster and he felt as if his palms were sweating, which something he hadn't experienced since he was a teenager.

The loud clearing of a throat across the bed had Robbie looking up and flushing as he found Nell staring at him with that amused knowing look on her face. "Morning Nell." He returned her warm grin, "How are you today?" He asked automatically.

James's sister let out a soft laugh, "Same as always," she replied lightly.

"And your father?"

Nell's smile faltered slightly, "He's doing better today, thank you Robbie."

James was looking between them when Robbie turned back to him, his brows pinched. "So, you two seem…friendly."

Nell chuckled as she turned back to her brother, leaning over to pat his cheek, "Now, now, baby brother, don't be going and getting all jealous." She winked.

James stiffened and glowered at his sister and Robbie's heart stuttered a little. Clearing his throat, Robbie looked around for the extra chair that he'd been practically living in the past week.

"The nurse took it out," Nell informed him helpfully, "but here, you can take this one." She grabbed her back and moved around the bed, shooting James another wicked knowing grin, "I'll leave your boys…alone."

Robbie couldn't avoid the blush that crept up his neck and onto his face, "If you see Lyn…."

"I'll drag her off for lunch." Nell said, her face beaming, "Now don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Which doesn't leave much." James shot back.

Nell stuck her tongue out and yanked open the door, pausing to look back at Robbie with a playful wink, "Remember he's still recovering." She ducked just in time to avoid the tissue box James lob at her head. The woman's laughter pleasantly filling the room as she vanished.

"Sorry about her, Sir."

Robbie frowned, "Sir? – What happened to Robbie?" he asked lightly, ignoring the twitch of fear in his chest.

"Uh…" James swallowed thickly.

"I'm not your boss any more lad." Robbie reminded him, "And you've been calling me by my name for the last couple of days."

"I haven't exactly been fully aware of my surroundings the last few days, si…Robbie."

"Right." Robbie muttered, lowering his eyes to his lap, "So you don't…remember what we've talked about then?" he looked up briefly to see James staring at him, blue eyes shimmering with a strange look.

"I'm…." he shook his head, his long fingers plucking at his hospital gown, "I mean…it's hard to tell what was real and what's a dream." He added quietly, and Robbie's heart flip-flopped.

"Well, how about you tell me about your dream, and I'll tell ya if its real?"

James looked doubtful and uncertain, "I'm not sure. I mean..."

Robbie reached forward instinctively, after days of holding on to James, and wrapped his fingers around the younger man's hand, "I promise, I won't think you're crazy, no matter what y'tell me."

James's gaze was fixed on their hands, and Robbie smiled softly at the gobsmacked expression on the younger man's face. Robbie would happily admit he liked the way James's fingers felt against his palm, and with any luck, it was making his intentions clear. "James, lad?"

"Uh," James stammered again, his head snapped up, eyes wide and somewhat startled.

Or maybe Robbie was moving ahead of himself. He hadn't even told James how he felt. Well, he had, but apparently the lad didn't remember. So slowly Robbie began to withdraw his fingers only for James to tightened his hold. A breath caught in Robbie's throat and he smiled softly.

"It's going to sound weird but..." he took a breath, "I dreamt I was visited by three ghosts."

Robbie smirked, "Last I checked, Lad, Christmas is months away."

James rolled his eyes and dropped them to stare at their hands again. "I'm serious. First was Will."

"Will?" Robbie frowned, "Will...McEwan?"

"Yes," James nodded, meeting his gaze, "He showed me things. Things I didn't remember about my past."

Robbie rubbed his thumb against the back of James's hand, "Okay."

"I..." James took a breath, "I had it all wrong. What I thought happened between him and I, it's not...it didn't happen the way I thought. And then I... - This is going to sound...I dreamt your wife came to see me."

Robbie froze. Over the last few days he'd come to the conclusion that what had happened with Val had all been in his mind. His subconscious giving him a kick in the arse so he'd fix what was wrong with his life. "Val came to see you?" he asked slowly, eyes searching James's face.

James nodded, "It's ridiculous I..."

"No. No, it's not." Robbie shuffled closer to the edge of his seat and gripped James's hand a little tighter. "I... I saw her too." he whispered, as if he were scared the doctors would come and drag him off to the funny farm.

"What?" James frowned.

"I saw her." Robbie insisted, eyes wide and beginning to brim with tears. "Before I woke up, I was in our old house. I was on the sofa and she was there."

There was a heavy silence as the pair watched each other, their linked hands growing hot and sweaty.

"She showed me your past." James finally muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "Newcastle." he added carefully.

Robbie's heart began to race. There could only be one reason why she'd take James back there, to show him...

"I'm sorry." James whispered softly, giving Robbie's fingers a remorseful squeeze. "About your..."

"Rory." Robbie finished. "My Rory." his throat closed around the name and he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He scrubbed at it with his free hand and sniffled back the others waiting to take its place. "Did you see what...happened to him."

James shook his head, "No, just your two..." his face turned red and Robbie shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Then she brought me back here."

"That's when you woke up?"

"No." James frowned, staring once more at their hands thoughtfully. "I... it's still a bit of a blur in places. You know, fading, but..." he lifted his gaze and asked, "Did you break up with Laura?"

Robbie inhaled sharply, straightened at the question. "Aye, lad." he nodded.

There was a long silence before James breathed out, "For me?"

Robbie's face lit up with a wide watery smile. "Aye, lad, for you."

"Oh." James gapped, eyes wide.

Robbie pushed himself off the chair and stepped up to the bed. It was a struggle but he perched himself on its edge, James's hand resting in his lap. "That's of course, if you're willing to have an old goat like me, lad."

_(*-*)_

Willing to have him? Was the man insane? That was all James had wanted for almost a decade. His heart was racing as he stared at Robbie, the man's warm hands clinging to his own. James swallowed thickly, and licked nervously at his lips. It should be easy saying yes, shouldn't it? One simple word that could make his whole life worth living. Yet it remained lodged in his throat. "Lyn." he said instead, the name quiet as it tumbled out of his mouth.

Robbie frowned, "What about her?"

"I… I know she's not happy about…whatever this is," he waved between them with his free hand, "I don't want to come between you."

The look on Robbie's face was all too familiar to James. It was the look he got when James disappointed him, not by letting him down but by not believing in himself. It was the look he'd given him when he'd found Monkford. "Whatever the issues are between me and my daughter, or my son when and if I get see him again, are not on you, James." He stated firmly, "If they can't accept that I love you, then so be it. They're adults, they make their own decisions now. They don't answer to me, and I certainly don't answer to them."

James's heart was beating in his throat and he felt the all the air had been sucked out of the room, "You… you love me?"

Robbie's lips curled up softly, "I've been telling you that for almost a week, Lad."

"Are you sure?" James whispered.

"Pretty sure, aye." Robbie shifted closer and lifted a hand to cup James's face, his thumb rubbing gently across the dark bruise on his cheek. "I've been in love with you for a while, but every time tried to…ask you out, you always shoved me in Laura's direction. Eventually I got the hint." He shrugged.

"I thought that's what you wanted." James insisted, "I thought it was…Mrs Lewis that was holding you back."

"At first, aye, it was." Robbie sighed, "But even then… It didn't stop me wanting you, James." His eyes travelled around James's face.

"Why didn't you just…say something. _Do_ something."

"It would have been inappropriate; I was your boss. I didn't want to risk our working relationship on the slim off chance that you felt the same."

James closed his eyes and sighed, "Snap."

Robbie huffed out a brittle laugh, "Right pair we are, hey?"

"That's what makes us such a good team." James replied softly, his lip curling.

"Aye."

They sat in silence just watching one another until James couldn't take it any longer. He'd waited long enough. Years. Decades even. Pressing one hand into the pillows behind him, he used it to push himself forward. Untangling his other hand from Robbie's grip he slid his hand around the man's neck and pulled him closer until their mouths met.

The kiss was everything James had dreamed it would be and so much more. Robbie's hand rested on his bicep, squeezing the muscle when he opened his mouth and invited James inside. The first touch of their tongues sent his heartrate sky rocketing and his head spinning. There was a loud screaming sound off in the distance, but it wasn't enough to draw him away from the man he'd waited a life time for. Tightening his hold on Robbie neck, James pulled himself closer, ignoring the blinding pain in his ribs and back. He didn't care. Nothing mattered in that moment. Nothing but him and Robbie, _Finally_.

It felt like an eternity before Robbie broke the kiss, pulling away breathlessly, to blink owlishly at James. James meanwhile fell back into his pillows, pain tearing through him.

When he opened his eyes, it was to find a nurse stood beside the bed, "I hope it was worth it." She huffed, and he couldn't tell if it was amusement or annoyance.

Grinning, wide and bright, James looked over to where Robbie had repositioned himself back in the chair, face bright red with embarrassment. "Every second." James chuckled, "God bless us, everyone."

Robbie rolled his eyes, shaking his head and lent back. "You're incorrigible." he muttered with a laugh, rubbing at his knee.

* * *

 **A/N: Not quiet the end yet, just a short epilogue.**


	10. Epilogue

**A/N: I've always loved the final scene in season 2's episode: One for Sorrow Part 2. But of course it could have been made just a little better with a touch more Lethaway love. So I've decided to use it as the epilogue to Please Wake Me So I Can Dream Again, and give you a little look at the boys happy ever after.**

* * *

 **Six Months Later**

James stood awkwardly on the river bank, sighing internal. He couldn't believe he'd allowed Robbie to talk him into this. Of course, he knew the reason behind it, he was trying to help build memories between him and his father, and sure, James appreciated it, but he was cold and felt useless. While Robbie stood talking to his dad about bait, there he was with a damn rod he had no idea how to use, feeling like a tit. - As his partner would say. Why couldn't they get called in on a case.

Almost as soon as he thought it, James regretted it. He was meant to be savouring what little time he had left with his father, and he had been. Almost every weekend he was either up at the care home reading to his dad, occasionally having discussions about the past. He'd always leave feeling worst, but he got to go home to Robbie. They'd eat curry, watching crap TV and then shuffle off to bed for an early night. - Some nights they even slept.

The past six months had been the best of James's life and he thanked God, and his mother, every day for them, and hopefully for many more. He'd even managed to pursued Robbie to attend church with him. - Sometimes. His so-called near death experience with Val hadn't exactly renewed Robbie's faith in the good Lord, but it had at least left him a little more open minded and a lot _less_ angry.

As for Robbie's family. He still hadn't heard from Mark, which James had to admit, pissed him off no end. Especially in light of his own issues with his father. Lyn tried to defend her brother, but deep down even she couldn't forgive him for so much as calling Robbie. – As for Lyn herself, she was slowly getting used to her dad's sexuality, and James's new place in his life. According to David, there were pamphlets and books on bisexuality all over the house.

His home life wasn't the only thing working out perfectly for him. A month after he'd returned to work as a Detective Inspector, he'd been surprised to find Robbie arriving at a crime scene. Apparently retirement wasn't the promised land he'd been led to believe it was, and after a meeting with Innocent, Robbie had managed to talk his way back onto the force. _"In a purely consulting role, you understand."_ Innocent had made that abundantly clear.

Of course it wasn't all rainbows and roses, they still had to work with Laura, who just about managed to maintain a professional air, but they were both fully aware that she was counting down the days until they ended up on her table, and he couldn't blame her one bit for it.

"Right." Robbie announced cheerily, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

James couldn't help but snort a laugh at the memory of the hideous stuffed cat they'd brought Maddox.

"And what's so funny?" Robbie asked, taking the rod from his hand.

James shook his head and took a deep draw of his cigarette, "Nothing," he said as he released the smoke from his lungs.

Robbie didn't look convince and James knew he'd bring it up later when they were alone. "Alright." he turned his attention to the rod, and James watched as he baited the hook, "There, you're all baited up."

"Good." James muttered unenthusiastically.

Rolling his eyes, Robbie pressed the rod onto his hand, "Just unhook that, okay. Knock this bail arm off, and then just get a hold of it like that."

James leant it, watching what Robbie was doing and trying not to get distracted but his fingers. He looked up throw his lashes with a smirk and knew the exact moment Robbie caught the lustful path his mind was going, because the man's cheeks grew a little red, "Sod off." he huffed out with a laugh, "You're meant to be learning to fish."

"I'd rather be back home in bed." James whispered.

Robbie ignored him, stepping forward and placing the rod in his hands, "Now nice and smoothly back,"

"If you're trying to chance the subject, you're failing miserably." James chuckled around his cigarette.

"Throw it out as far as you can, but keep it smooth, yeah."

James was still grinning as he wound in the line and then with a sharp snap of his wrist, flung it out into the water.

"Ah, that's not bad." His dad praised a few meters away.

A warmth spread through James, and he smiled over at him.

"I'm always trying to get m little boy into fishing." Philip informed them, "He'd not keen. More into books."

James swallowed the lump that rose up in his throat. He didn't think he'd ever get used to hearing his dad talk to him as if he were a stranger. Referring to him in the third person. He felt Robbie's hand on his back, a solid reassure pressure.

"He'll get there, I'm sure." Robbie replied, "Just waiting for the right moment." he added with a soft smile at James before he moved over to talk once more to Philip.

James turned back to the water to avoid his father seeing the tears playing behind his eyes. He watched the water ripple and flow, and tried his hardest not to think about the inevitable. While he felt reassure, more now than ever, that there was an afterlife, and that his parents would be reunited once again, he didn't ease the pain of knowing that one day soon he'd lose him. - And then eventually, he'd lose Robbie.

Clearing his throat, he turned his head away so neither his dad or Robbie could see him and rubbed his damp cheek across his shoulder. He was just getting himself under control when his father and Robbie's excited voices had him spinning around.

Robbie grabbed the net and looked up at James expectantly, "Do you?"

"No, no, you're good." James dismissed, hanging back as Robbie hurried to help reel in the fish. The joy on both men's faces was infectious and he found himself moving closer.

"Alright, here we go! You just guide it in." Robbie said excitedly. "Oh, that's nicely done."

James grinned, "What is it?"

"Rainbow trout." Robbie informed him brightly.

"It's a trout," Philip laughed, shaking his head as he looked up at James briefly.

The moment the trout was in the net James couldn't keep from pulling his father into a hug, "Well done." and felt his heart lightened as his father's arms tightened comfortable around him, securing the memory.

After they had the fish back on land, they took a few pictures, James grinning into the phone camera, his arm around his father's shoulders proudly. Then they tossed the creature back into the water.

"We should probably be getting back," Robbie said looking at the time on his phone, "Nell's expecting us."  
James sighed, looking regretfully at his dad, "Right."

"Philip, are you ready?" Robbie asked gently.

"Ready?"

"You're having dinner with us, remember." he reminded him gently.

"Oh, uh...yes, yes, of course. Thank you."

Robbie smiled and James hurried to take his father's tackle box and rod, and lead the way back to the car.

While Philip made himself comfortable in the front seat, James stashed the equipment in the boot. When he slammed it closed he found Robbie stood there watching him. "It was a good day."

James nodded, "Yeah."

Robbie stepped around the car and up close to James, his hand resting lightly on his arm. He didn't say anything, because there was nothing he could say. Nothing but platitudes, none of which would ease the ache in James's heart. All Robbie could do was smiling warmly and pull him down into a gentle kiss.

When they parted, the light was back in James's eyes. "Do we have to have dinner with my sister?" he whined, "Can't we just go home and have an early night."

With a huff, Robbie stepped away, "Do you want to tell your sister that?" he laughed, fully aware of just what Nell would say to them crying off for an early night. "Didn't think so."

As James reached the driver's seat door, he looked over the roof of the car, meeting Robbie's gaze. "I love you, Robbie." he stated seriously.

There was a brief pause and then Robbie grinned, "I love you too, me Lad."

* * *

 **A/N: Well that's it. The end. I'm sorry if this ending sucks, I'm bloody awful at them. I'd like to thank everyone for sticking with me, and encouraging me to keep writing this story. Especially Pat, who'd reviews have really kept me focused. I'm glad you've all enjoyed it and I appreciate all the feedback you've given me over the last few months. I have a lot of mixed feelings about finishing this story but overall it's been a hell of a ride.**

 **Anyway, thanks again.**

 **Goodbye.**


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